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THE ART OF STORY-TELLING 



THE ART 
OF STORY -TELLING 



By MARIE L. SHEDLOCK 



WITH A PREFACE BY 

Professor JOHN ADAMS 

CHAIR OF EDUCATION, UNIVERSITY OF LONDON 



LONDON 
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET, W. 

1915 



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ALL RIGHTS RESERVED 

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CONTENTS. 



PAGE 

Preface vii 

Introduction ... ... ... ... ... ... i 

Chapter I. The Difficulties of Story-Telling con- 
nected with Libraries and Clubs ... 6 

II. The Essentials of Story-Telling ... 25 

III. The Artifices of Story-Telling ... 32 

IV. Elements to Avoid 42 

V. Elements to Seek : ... 61 

VI. How to Obtain and Maintain the Effect 89 

VII. Questions and Answers • ... 117 

VIII. List of Stories Told in Full 138 

List of Titles of Individual Stories and 

of Collections of Stories 210 



Index 



235' 



PREFACE. 

By Professor John Adams, 
Chair of Education, University of London. 

Those who do not love schoolmasters tell us that the 
man who can do something supremely well contents 
himself with doing it, while the man who cannot do 
it very well must needs set about showing other 
people how it should be done. The masters in any 
craft are prone to magnify their gifts by maintaining 
that the poet — or the stove-pipe maker — is born, not 
made. Teachers will accordingly be gratified to find 
in the following pages the work of a lady who is at 
the same time a brilliant executant and an admirable 
expositor. Miss Shedlock stands in the very first 
rank of story-tellers. No one can claim with greater 
justice that the gift of Scheherazade is hers by birth- 
right. Yet she has recognised that even the highest 
natural gifts may be well or ill manipulated : that in 
short the poet, not to speak of the stove-pipe maker, 
must take a little more trouble than to be merely born. 
It is well when the master of a craft begins to take 
thought and to discover what underlies his method. 
It does not, of course, happen that every master is 
able to analyse the processes that secure him success 
in his art. For after all the expositor has to be born 
as well as the executant; and it is perhaps one of the 
main causes of the popularity of the born-not-made 
theory that so few people are born both good artists 

vii 



Vlll. 



PREFACE 



and good expositors. Miss Shedlock has had this 
rare good fortune, as all those who have both read her 
book and heard her exemplify her principles on the 
platform will readily admit. 

Let no one who lacks the gift of story-telling hope 
that the following pages will confer it. Like Comenius 
and like the schoolmaster in Shakespeare. Miss 
Shedlock is entitled to claim a certain capacity or 
ingenuity in her pupils, before she can promise 
effective help. But on the other hand let no successful 
story-teller form the impression that he has nothing 
to learn from the exposition here given. The best 
craftsmen are those who are not only most able but 
most willing to learn from a fellow master. The most 
inexperienced story-teller who has the love of the art 
in his soul will gather a full harvest from Miss 
Shedlock's teaching, while the most experienced and 
skilful will not go empty away. 

The reader will discover that the authoress is first 
and last an artist. " Dramatic joy " is put in the 
forefront when she is enumerating the aims of the 
story-teller. But her innate gifts as a teacher will not 
be suppressed. She objects to "didactic emphasis" 
and yet cannot say too much in favour of the moral 
effect that may be produced by the use of the story. 
She raises here the whole problem of direct versus 
indirect moral instruction, and decides in no uncertain 
sound in favour of the indirect form. There is a great 
deal to be said on the other side, but this is not the 
place to say it. On the wide question Miss Shedlock 
has on her side the great body of public opinion 
among professional teachers. The orthodox master 
proclaims that he is, of course, a moral instructor, but 
adds that in the schoolroom the less said about the 
matter the better. Like the authoress, the orthodox 



PREFACE ix. 

teacher has much greater faith in example than in 
precept : so much faith indeed that in many schools 
precept does not get the place it deserves. But in the 
matter of story-telling the artistic element introduces 
something that is not necessarily involved in ordinary 
school work. For better or for worse modern opinion 
is against the explicitly stated lesson to be drawn from 
any tale that is told. Most people agree with Mark 
Twain's condemnation of " the moral that wags its 
crippled tail at the end of most school-girls' essays." 

The justification of the old-fashioned " moral " was 
not artistic but didactic. It embodied the determina- 
tion of the story-teller to see that his pupils got the 
full benefit of the lesson involved. If the moral is to 
be cut out, the story-teller must be sure that the lesson 
is so clearly conveyed in the text that any further 
elaboration would be felt as an impertinent addition. 
Whately assures us that men prefer metaphors to 
similes because in the simile the point is baldly stated, 
whereas in the metaphor the reader or hearer has to 
be his own interpreter. All education is in the last 
resort self-education, and Miss Shedlock sees to it 
that her stories compel her hearers to make the 
application she desires. 

In two other points modern opinion is prepared to 
give our authoress rein where our forefathers would 
have been inclined to restrain her. The sense of 
humour has come to its proper place in our school- 
rooms — pupils' humour, be it understood, for there 
always was scope enough claimed for the humour of 
the teacher. So with the imagination. The time is 
past when this "mode of being conscious" was 
looked at askance in school. Parents and teachers 
no longer speak contemptuously about " the busy 
faculty," and quote Genesis in its condemnation. 



x. PREFACE 

Miss Shedlock has been well advised to keep to her 
legitimate subject instead of wandering afield in a 
Teutonic excursion into the realms of folk-lore. What 
parents and teachers want is the story as here and now 
existing and an account of how best to manipulate it. 
This want the book now before us admirably meets. 

JOHN ADAMS. 



INTRODUCTION. 

Story-telling is almost the oldest Art in the world — 
the first conscious form of literary communication. 
In the East it still survives, and it is not an uncommon 
thing to see a crowd at a street-corner held by the 
simple narration of a story. There are signs in the 
West of a growing interest in this ancient art, and we 
may yet live to see the renaissance of the troubadours 
and the minstrels whose appeal will then rival that 
of the mob orator or itinerant politician. One of the 
surest signs of a belief in the educational power of the 
story- is its introduction into the curriculum of the 
Training-College and the classes of the Elementary 
and Secondary Schools. It is just at the time when 
the imagination is most keen — the mind being unham- 
pered by accumulation of facts — that stories appeal 
most vividly and are retained for all time. 

It is to be hoped that some day stories will only 
be told to school groups by experts who have devoted 
special time and preparation to the art of telling them. 
It is a great fallacy to suppose that the systematic 
study of story-telling destroys the spontaneity of 
narrative. After a long experience, I find the exact 
converse to be true, namely, that it is only when one 
has overcome the mechanical difficulties that one can 
"let oneself go" in the dramatic interest of the 
story. 

By the expert story-teller I do not mean the profes- 
sional elocutionist. The name — wrongly enough — 
has become associated in the mind of the public with 
persons who beat their breast, tear their hair, and 



2 THE ART OF STORY-TELLING 

declaim blood-curdling episodes. A decade or more 
ago, the drawing-room reciter was of this type, and 
was rapidly becoming the bugbear of social gather- 
ings. The difference between the stilted reciter and 
the simple story-teller is perhaps best illustrated by 
an episode in Hans C. Andersen's immortal story of 
the Nightingale. 1 The real Nightingale and the 
artificial Nightingale have been bidden by the 
Emperor to unite their forces and to sing a duet at 
a Court function. The duet turns out most disas- 
trously, and whilst the artificial Nightingale is singing 
his one solo for the thirty-third time, the real 
Nightingale flies out of the window back to the green 
wood — a true artist, instinctively choosing his right 
atmosphere. But the bandmaster — symbol of the 
pompous pedagogue — in trying to soothe the outraged 
feelings of the courtiers, says, " Because, you see, 
Ladies and Gentlemen, and, above all, Your Imperial 
Majesty, with the real nightingale you never can tell 
what you will hear, but in the artificial nightingale 
everything is decided beforehand. So it is, and so 
it must remain. It cannot be otherwise." 

And as in the case of the two nightingales, so it is' 
with the stilted reciter and the simple narrator : one 
is busy displaying the machinery, showing " how the 
tunes go " — the other is anxious to conceal the art. 
Simplicity should be the keynote of story -telling, but 
(and here the comparison with the Nightingale breaks 
down) it is a simplicity which comes after much 
training in self-control, and much hard work in 
overcoming the difficulties which beset the presenta- 
tion. 

I do not mean that there are not born story-tellers 
who could hold an audience without preparation, but 

1. See p. 138. 



INTRODUCTION 3 

hey are so rare in number that we can afford to 
neglect them in our general consideration ; for this 
vork is dedicated to the average story-tellers anxious 
to make the best use of their dramatic ability, and it 
is to them that I present my plea for special study and 
preparation before telling a story to a group of 

hildren — that is, if they wish for the far-reaching 

ffects I shall speak of later on. Only the preparation 
must be of a much less stereotyped nature than that 
oy which the ordinary reciters are trained for their 
icareer. 

Some years ago, when I was in the States, I was 
asked to put into the form of lectures my views upon 
the educational value of telling stories. A sudden 
inspiration seized me. I began to cherish a dream of 

ong hours to be spent in the British Museum, the 
Congressional Library in Washington and the Public 
Library at Boston — and this is the only portion of 
the dream which has been realized. I planned an 
elaborate scheme of research work which was to result 
in a magnificent (if musty) philological treatise. I 
thought of trying to discover by long and patient 
researches what species of lullaby were crooned by 
Egyptian mothers to their babes, and what were the 
elementary dramatic poems in vogue among Assyrian 
nursemaids which were the prototypes of " Little Jack 
Horner," " Dickory, Dickory Dock," and other 
nursery classics. I intended to follow up the study 
of these ancient documents by making an appendix 
of modern variants, showing what progress we had 
made — if any — among modern nations. 

But there came to me suddenly one day the remem- 
brance of a scene from Racine's " Plaideurs " in 
which the counsel for the defence, eager to show how 
fundamental is his knowledge, begins his speech : — 



4 THE ART OF STORY-TELLING 

" Before the Creation of the World "—And the 
Judge (with a touch of weariness tempered by humour) 
suggests : — 

" Let us pass on to the Deluge." 

And thus I, too, have " passed on to the Deluge." 
I have abandoned an account of the origin and past 
of stories which at the best would only have displayed 
a little recently-acquired book-knowledge. When I 
thought of the number of scholars who could treat this 
part of the question so infinitely better than myself, 
I realized how much wiser it would be — though the 
task is much more humdrum — to deal with the present 
possibilities of story-telling for our generation of 
parents and teachers, and, leaving out the folk-lore 
side, devote myself to the story itself. 

My objects in urging the use of stories in the 
education of children are at least five-fold : 

First, to give them dramatic joy, for which they 
have a natural craving. Secondly, to develop a sense 
of humour, which is really a sense of proportion. 
Thirdly, to correct certain tendencies by showing the 
consequences in the career of the hero in the story. 
(Of this motive the children must be quite unconscious, 
and there must be no didactic emphasis.) Fourthly, 
by means of example, not precept, to present such 
ideals as will sooner or later (I care not which) be 
translated into action. Fifthly, to develop the 
imagination, which really takes in all the other points. 

So much for the purely educational side of the book. - 
But the art of story-telling, quite apart from the 
subject, appeals not only to the educational world or 
to parents as parents, but also to a wider outside 
public, who may be interested in the purely human 
point of view. 

In great contrast to the lofty scheme I had originally 



INTRODUCTION 5 

proposed to myself, I now simply place before all 
those who are interested in the Art of Story-telling in 
any form the practical experience I have had in my 
travels across the United States and through England ; 
and, because I am confining myself to personal 
experience which must of necessity be limited, I am 
very anxious not to appear dogmatic or to give the 
impression that I wish to lay down the law on the 
subject. But I hope my readers may profit by my 
errors, improve on my methods, and thus help to bring- 
about the revival of an almost lost art — one which 
appeals more directly and more stirringly than any 
other method to the majority of listeners. 

In Sir Philip Sidney's " Defence of Poesy " we 
find these words : 

" Forsooth he cometh to you with a tale, which 
holdeth children from play, and old men from the 
chimney-corner, and pretending no more, doth 
intend the winning of the mind from wickedness 
to virtue even as the child is often brought to take 
most wholesome things by hiding them in such 
other as have a pleasant taste." 

MARIE L. SHEDLOCK. 



CHAPTER I. 

The Difficulties of the Story. 
I propose to deal in this chapter with the difficulties 
or dangers which beset the path of the Story-teller, 
because, until we have overcome these, we cannot hope 
for the finished and artistic presentation which is to 
bring out the full value of the story. 

The difficulties are many, and yet they ought not to 
discourage the would-be narrators, but only show them 
how all-important is the preparation for the story, if 
it is to have the desired effect. 

I propose to illustrate by concrete examples, thereby 
hoping to achieve a two-fold result : one to fix the 
subject more clearly in the mind of the student — the 
other to use the Art of Story -telling to explain itself. 

I have chosen one or two instances from my own 
personal experience. The grave mistakes made in my 
own case may serve as a warning to others, who will 
find, however, that experience is the best teacher. For 
positive work, in the long run, we generally find out 
our own method. On the negative side, however, it 
is useful to have certain pitfalls pointed out to us, in 
order that we may save time by avoiding them : it is 
for this reason that I sound a note of warning. These 
are : — 

I. — The danger of side issues. An inexperienced 
story-teller is exposed to the temptation of breaking 
off from the main dramatic interest in a short exciting 
story, in order to introduce a side issue, which is often 
interesting and helpful, but should be reserved for a 
longer and less dramatic story. If the interest turns 

6 



SIDE ISSUES 7 

on some dramatic moment, the action must be quick 
and uninterrupted, or it will lose half its effect. 

I had been telling a class of young children the 
story of Polyphemus and Ulysses, and, just at the 
most dramatic moment in it, some impulse prompted 
me to go off on a side issue to describe the personal 
appearance of Ulysses. 

The children were visibly bored, but with polite 
indifference they listened to my elaborate description 
of the hero. If I had given them an actual description 
from Homer, I believe that the strength of the 
language would have appealed to their imagination 
(all the more strongly because they might not have 
understood the individual words) and have lessened 
their disappointment at the dramatic issue being 
postponed ; but I trusted to my own lame verbal 
efforts, and signally failed. Attention flagged, fidget- 
ing began, the atmosphere was rapidly becoming 
spoiled, in spite of the patience and toleration still 
shown by the children. At last, however, one little 
girl in the front row, as spokeswoman for the class, 
suddenly said : " If you please, before you go any 
further, do you mind telling us whether, after all, that 

Poly (slight pause) that (final attempt) 

Polyanthus died?" 

Now, the remembrance of this question has been of 
extreme use to me in my career as a story-teller. I 
have realized that in a short dramatic story the mind 
of the listeners must be set at ease with regard to the 
ultimate fate of the special " Polyanthus " who takes 
the centre of the stage. 

I remember too the despair of a little boy at a 
dramatic representation of "Little Red Riding-Hood," 
when that little person delayed the thrilling catastrophe 
with the Wolf, by singing a pleasant song on her way 



8 THE DIFFICULTIES OF THE STORY 

through the wood. " Oh, why," said the little boy, 
"does she not get on?" And I quite shared his 
impatience. 

This warning is only necessary in connection with 
the short dramatic narrative. There are occasions 
when we can well afford to offer short descriptions for 
the sake of literary style, and for the purpose of 
enlarging the vocabulary of the child. I have found, 
however, in these cases, it is well to take the children 
into your confidence — warning them that they are to 
expect nothing particularly exciting in the way of 
dramatic event : they will then settle down with a 
freer mind (though the mood may include a touch of 
resignation) to the description you are about to offer 
them. 1 

II. — The danger of altering the story to suit special 
occasions. This is done sometimes from extreme 
conscientiousness, sometimes from sheer ignorance of 
the ways of children ; it is the desire to protect them 
from knowledge which they already possess and with 
which they (equally conscientious) are apt to " turn 
and rend " the narrator. I remember once when I 
was telling the story of the siege of Troy to very 
young children, I suddenly felt anxious lest there 
should be anything in the story of the Rape of Helen 
not altogether suitable for the average age of the 
class — namely, nine years. I threw therefore, a 
domestic colouring over the whole subject, and 
presented an imaginary conversation between Paris 
and Helen, in which Paris tried to persuade Helen 
that she was a strong-minded woman, thrown away 
on a limited society in Sparta, and that she should 
come away and visit some of the institutions of the 

1. With regard to the right moment for choosing this kind of 
story, I shall return to the subject in a later chapter. 



ALTERING THE STORY 9 

world with him, which would doubtless prove a 
mutually instructive journey. 1 I then gave the 
children the view taken by Herodotus that Helen 
never went to Troy, but was detained in Egypt. The 
children were much thrilled by the story, and 
responded most eagerly when, in my inexperience, I 
invited them to reproduce for the next day the tale 
I had just told them. 

A small child in the class presented me, as you will 
see, with the ethical problem from which I had so 
laboriously protected her. The essay ran : 

" Once upon a time the King of Troy's son was 
called Paris. And he went over to Greace to see 
what it was like. And here he saw the beautiful 
Helener, and likewise her husband Menelayus. 
And one day, Menelayus went out hunting, and left 
Paris and Helener alone, and Paris said : ' Do you 
not feel dul in this polls ? ' And Helener said : ' I 
feel very dull in this pallice, 2 and Paris said : 
' Come away and see the world with me.' So they 
sliped off together, and they came to the King of 
Egypt, and he said : ' Who is the young lady ? ' 
So Paris told him. ' But,' said the King, ' it is not 
propper for you to go off with other people's wifes. 
So Helener shall stop here.' Paris stamped his 
foot. When Menelayus got home, he stamped his 
foot. And he called round him all his soldiers, and 
they stood round Troy for eleven years. At last 

1. I venture to hope (at this long distance of years) that my 
language in telling the story was more simple than appears from 
this account. 

2. This difference of spelling in the same essay will be much 
appreciated by those who know how gladly children offer an 
orthographical alternative, in hopes that one if not the other may 
satisfy the exigency of the situation. 



io THE DIFFICULTIES OF THE STORY 

they thought it was no use standing any longer, so 
they built a wooden horse in memory of Helener 
and the Trojans and it was taken into the town." 

Now the mistake I made in my presentation was to 
lay particular stress on the reason for elopement by 
my careful readjustment, which really called more 
attention to the episode than was necessary for the 
age of my audience ; and evidently caused confusion 
in the minds of some of the children who knew the 
story in its more accurate original form. 

Whilst travelling in the States, I was provided with 
a delightful appendix to this story. I had been telling- 
Miss Longfellow and her sister the little girl's version 
of the Siege of Troy, and Mrs. Thorpe made the 
following comment, with the American humour whose 
dryness adds so much to its value : 

" I never realised before," she said, " how glad the 
Greeks must have been to sit down even inside a 
horse, when they had been standing for eleven years." 

III. — The danger of introducing unfamiliar words. 
This is the very opposite danger of the one to which 
I have just alluded; it is the taking for granted that 
children are acquainted with the meaning of certain 
words upon which turns some important point in the 
story. We must not introduce (without at least a 
passing explanation) words which, if not rightly 
understood, would entirely alter the picture we wish 
to present. 

I had once promised to tell stories to an audience of 
Irish peasants, and I should like to state here that, 
though my travels have brought me into touch with 
almost every kind of audience, I have never found 
one where the atmosphere is so " self-prepared " as in 
that of a group of Irish peasants. To speak to them 



UNFAMILIAR WORDS n 

(especially on the subject of Fairy-tales) is like playing 
on a delicate harp : the response is so quick and the 
sympathy is so keen. Of course the subject of Fairy- 
tales is one which is completely familiar to them and 
comes into their every-day life. They have a feeling 
of awe with regard to fairies, which in some parts of 
Ireland is very deep. 1 

On this particular occasion I had been warned by 
an artist friend who had kindly promised to sing 
songs between the stories, that my audience would be 
of varying age and almost entirely illiterate. Many 
of the older men and women, who could neither read 
nor write, had never been beyond their native village. 
I was warned to be very simple in my language and 
to explain any difficult words which might occur in 
the particular Indian story I had chosen for that night, 
namely, " The Tiger, The Jackal and the Brahman." 2 
It happened that the older portion of the audience had 
scarcely ever seen even the picture of wild animals. 
I profited by the advice, and offered a word of expla- 
nation with regard to the Tiger and the Jackal. I 
also explained the meaning of the word Brahman — 
at a proper distance, however, lest the audience should 
class him with wild animals. I then went on with 
my story, in the course of which I mentioned the 
Buffalo. In spite of the warning I had received, I 
found it impossible not to believe that the name of 
this animal would be familiar to any audience. I 
therefore went on with the sentence containing this 
word, and ended it thus : "And then the Brahman 
went a little further and met an old Buffalo turning a 
wheel." 

The next day, whilst walking down the village 

1. I refer, of course, to the Irish in their native atmosphere. 

2. See List of Stories. 



12 THE DIFFICULTIES OF THE STORY 

street, I entered into conversation with a thirteen-year- 
old girl who had been in my audience the night before, 
and who began at once to repeat in her own words 
the Indian story in question. When she came to the 
particular sentence I have just quoted, I was greatly 
startled to hear her version, which ran thus : "And 
the priest went on a little further, and he met another 
old gentleman pushing a wheelbarrow." I stopped 
her at once, and not being able to identify the sentence 
as part of the story I had told, I questioned her a 
little more closely. I found that the word Buffalo 
had evidently conveyed to her mind an old " buffer " 
whose name was " Lo " (probably taken to be an 
Indian form of appellation, to be treated with tolerance 
though it might not be Irish in sound). Then, not 
knowing of any wheel more familiarly than that 
attached to a barrow, the young narrator completed 
the picture in her own mind — which, doubtless, was 
a vivid one — but one must admit that it had lost 
something of the Indian atmosphere which I had 
intended to gather about it. 

IV. — The danger of claiming the co-operation of 
the class by means of questions. The danger in this 
case is more serious for the teacher than the child, 
who rather enjoys the process and displays a fatal 
readiness to give any sort of answer if only he can 
play a part in the conversation. If we could depend 
on the children giving the kind of answer we expect, 
all might go well, and the danger would be lessened; 
but children have a perpetual way of frustrating our 
hopes in this direction, and of landing us in unex- 
pected bypaths from which it is not always easy to 
return to the main road without a very violent reaction. 
As illustrative of this, I quote from " The Madness of 
Philip," by Josephine Dodge Daskam Bacon, a truly 



THE DANGER OF QUESTIONS 13 

Idelightful essay on Child Psychology, in the guise 
|of the lightest of stories. 

The scene takes place in a Kindergarten — where a 
bold and fearless visitor has undertaken to tell a story 
on the spur of the moment to a group of restless 
children. 

She opens thus : " Yesterday, children, as I came 
out of my yard, what do you think I saw? " 

The elaborately concealed surprise in store was so 
obvious that Marantha rose to the occasion and 
suggested "an el'phunt." 

rr Why, no. Why should I see an elephant in my 
yard ? It was not nearly so big as that — it was a 
little thing." 

'A fish," ventured Eddy Brown, whose eye fell 
upon the aquarium in the corner. The raconteuse 
smiled patiently. 

" Now, how could a fish, a live fish, get into my 
front yard? " 

"A dead fish," says Eddy. He had never been 
known to relinquish voluntarily an idea. 

"No; it was a little kitten," said the story-teller 
decidedly. "A little white kitten. She was standing 
right near a big puddle of water. Now, what else do 
you think I saw? " 

"Another kitten," suggests Marantha, conserva- 
tively. 

" No ; it was a big Newfoundland dog. He saw the 
little kitten near the water. Now, cats don't like 
water, do they? What do they like?" 

" Mice," said Joseph ZukofTsky abruptly. 

"Well, yes, they do; but there were no mice in 
my yard. I'm sure you know what I mean. If they 
don't like water, what do they like? " 

" Milk," cried Sarah Fuller confidently. 



i 4 THE DIFFICULTIES OF THE STORY 

"They like a dry place," said Mrs. R. B. Smith. 
" Now, what do you suppose the dog did? " 

It may be that successive failures had disheartened 
the listeners. It may be that the very range of choice 
presented to them and the dog alike dazzled their 
imagination. At all events, they made no answer. 

" Nobody knows what the dog did?" repeated the 
story-teller encouragingly. " What would you do if 
you saw a little kitten like that ? ' ' 

And Philip remarked gloomily : 

" I'd pull its tail." 

"And what do the rest of you think? I hope you 
are not as cruel as that little boy." 

A jealous desire to share Philip's success prompted 
the quick response : 

" I'd pull it too." 

Now, the reason of the total failure of this story 
was the inability to draw any real response from the 
children, partly because of the hopeless vagueness of 
the questions, partly because, there being no time for 
reflection, the children said the first thing that comes 
into their head without any reference to their real 
thoughts on the subject. 

I cannot imagine anything less like the enlightened 
methods of the best Kindergarten teaching. Had 
Mrs. R. B. Smith been a real, and not a fictional, 
person, it would certainly have been her last appear- 
ance as a raconteuse in this educational institution. 

V. — The difficulty of gauging the effect of a story 
upon the audience. This rises from lack of observa- 
tion and experience; it is the want of these qualities 
trhich leads to the adoption of such a method as I 
ave just presented. We learn in time that want of 
expression on the faces of the audience and want of 
any kind of external response does not always mean 



MISJUDGING THE EFFECT 15 

either lack of interest or attention. There is often 
real interest deep down, but no power, or perhaps no 
wish, to display that interest, which is deliberately 
concealed at times so as to protect oneself from 
questions which may be put. 

I was speaking on one occasion in Davenport in 
the State of Iowa. I had been engaged to deliver a 
lecture to adults on the " Fun and Philosophy " of 
Hans C. Andersen's Fairy Tales. When I arrived 
at the Hall, I was surprised and somewhat annoyed 
to find four small boys sitting in the front row. They 
seemed to be about ten years old, and, knowing pretty 
well from experience what boys of that age usually 
like, I felt rather anxious as to what would happen, 
and I must confess that for once I wished children 
had the useful faculty, developed in adults, of success- 
fully concealing their feelings. Any hopes I had 
conceived on this point were speedily shattered. After 
listening to the first few sentences, two of the boys 
evidently recognised the futility of bestowing any 
further attention on the subject, and consoled them- 
selves for the dulness of the occasion by starting a 
"scrap." I watched this proceeding for a minute 
with great interest, but soon recalled the fact that I 
had not been engaged in the capacity of spectator, so, 
addressing the antagonists in as severe a manner as 
I could assume, I said : " Boys, I shall have to ask 
you to go to the back of the hall." They responded 
with much alacrity, and evident gratitude, and even 
exceeded my instructions by leaving the hall 
altogether. 

My sympathy was now transferred to the two 
remaining boys, who sat motionless, and one of them 
never took his eyes off me during the whole lecture. 
I feared lest they might be simply cowed by the treat- 



16 THE DIFFICULTIES OF THE STORY 

ment meted out to their companions, whose joy in 
their release had been somewhat tempered by the 
disgrace of ejection. I felt sorry that I could not 
provide these model boys with a less ignominious 
retreat, and I cast about in my mind how I could make 
it up to them. At the end of the lecture, I addressed 
them personally and, congratulating them on their 
quiet behaviour, said that, as I feared the main part 
of the lecture could scarcely have interested them, I 
should conclude, not with the story I had intended 
for the adults, but with a special story for them, as a 
reward for their good behaviour. I then told Hans 
C. Andersen's "Jack the Dullard," which I have 
always found to be a great favourite with boys. These 
particular youths smiled very faintly, and left any 
expression of enthusiasm to the adult portion of the 
audience. My hostess, who was eager to know what 
the boys thought, enquired of them how they liked the 
lecture. The elder one said guardedly : "1 liked it 
very well, but I was piqued at her underrating my 
appreciation of Hans Andersen." 

I was struck with the entirely erroneous impression 
I had received of the effect I was producing upon the 
boys. I was thankful at least that a passing allusion 
to Schopenhauer in my lecture possibly provided 
some interest for this " young old " child. 

I felt somewhat in the position of a Doctor of 
Divinity in Canada to whom a small child confided 
the fact that she had written a parody on " The Three 
Fishers," but that it had dropped into the fire. The 
Doctor made some facetious rejoinder about the 
impertinence of the flames in consuming her manu- 
script. The child reproved him in these grave words : 
" Nature, you know, is Nature, and her laws are 
inviolable." 



DRAMATIC POWER 17 

VI. — The danger of over illustration. After long 
experience, and after considering the effect produced 
on children when pictures are shown to them during 
the narration, I have come to the conclusion that the 
appeal to the eye and the ear at the same time is of 
doubtful value, and has, generally speaking, a 
distracting effect; the concentration on one channel 
of communication attracts and holds the attention 
more completely. I was confirmed in this theory 
when I addressed an audience of blind people for the 
first time, and noticed how closely they attended, and 
how much easier it seemed to them, because they were 
so completely " undistracted by the sights around 
them." 1 

I have often suggested to young teachers two 
experiments in support of this theory. They are not 
practical experiments, nor could they be repeated 
often with the same audience, but they are intensely 
interesting and they serve to show the actual effect 
of appealing to one sense at a time. The first of these 
experiments is to take a small group of children and 
suggest that they should close their eyes whilst you 
tell them a story. You will then notice how much 
more attention is given to the intonation and inflection 
of the voice. The reason is obvious : because there 
is nothing to distract the attention, it is concentrated 
on the only thing offered to the listeners (that is, 
sound), to enable them to seize the dramatic interest 
of the story. 

We find an example of the dramatic power of the 
voice in its appeal to the imagination, in one of the 
tributes brought by an old pupil to Thomas Edward 
Brown (Master at Clifton College) : 

1. This was at the Congressional Library at Washington. 



i8 THE DIFFICULTIES OF THE STORY 

" My earliest recollection is that his was the most 
vivid teaching I ever received : great width of view 
and poetical, almost passionate, power of present- 
ment. We were reading Fronde's History, and I 
shall never forget how it was Brown's words, 
Brown's voice, not the historian's, that made me 
feel the great democratic function which the 
monasteries performed in England : the view 
became alive in his mouth." 

And in another passage : 

"All set forth with such dramatic force and aided 
by such a splendid voice, left an indelible impres- 
sion on my mind." (Letters of T. E. Brown, p. 55.) 

A second experiment, and a much more subtle and 
difficult one, is to take the same group of children on 
another occasion, telling them a story in pantomime 
form, giving them first the briefest outline of it. In 
this case this must be of the simplest construction, 
until the children are able (if you continue the experi- 
ment) to look for something more subtle. 

I have never forgotten the marvellous performance 
of a play given in London, many years ago, entirely 
in pantomime form. The play was called L'Enfant 
Pro digue, and was presented by a company of French 
artists. It would be almost impossible to exaggerate 
the strength of that "silent appeal" to the public. 
One was so unaccustomed to reading meaning and 
development of character into gesture and facial 
expression that it was really a revelation to most 
present — certainly to all Anglo-Saxons. 

I cannot touch on this subject without admitting 
the enormous dramatic value connected with the 
kinematograph. Though it can never take the place 



PICTURES, ACTUAL AND MENTAL 19 

of an actual performance, whether in story form or 
on the stage, it has a real educational value in its 
p&ssibilities of representation which it is difficult to 
over-estimate, and I believe that its introduction into 
the school curriculum, under the strictest supervision, 
will be of extraordinary benefit. The movement, in 
its present chaotic condition, and in the hands of a 
commercial management, is more likely to stifle than 
to awaken or stimulate the imagination, but the 
educational world is fully alive to the danger, and I 
am convinced that in the future of the movement good 
will predominate. 

The real value of the cinematograph in connection 
wi£h stories is that it provides the background that is 
wanting to the inner vision of the average child, and 
does not prevent its imagination from filling in the 
details later. For instance, it would be quite impos- 
sible for the average child to get an idea from mere 
word-painting of the atmosphere of the Polar regions, 
as represented lately on the film in connection with 
Captain Scott's expedition; but any stories told later 
on ^ibout these regions would have an infinitely 
greater interest. 

There is, however, a real danger in using pictures 
to illustrate the story— especially if it be one which 
contains a direct appeal to the imagination of the 
child (as quite distinct from the stories which deal 
with facts) — which is that you force the whole audience 
of children to see the same picture, instead of giving 
each individual child the chance of making his own 
mental picture, which is of far greater joy, and of 
much greater educational value, since by this process 
the child co-operates with you instead of having all 
the work done for it. 

Queyrat, in his work on " La Logique chez 1' 



20 THE DIFFICULTIES OF THE STORY 

Enfant " quotes Madame Necker de Saussure i 1 "To 
children and animals actual objects present, themselves, 
not the terms of their manifestations. For them 
thinking is seeing over again, it is going through the 
sensations that the real object would have produced. 
Everything which goes on within them is in the form 
of pictures, or rather, inanimate scenes in which Life 

is partially reproduced Since the child has, 

as yet, no capacity for abstraction, he finds a stimu- 
lating power in words and a suggestive inspiration 
which holds him enchanted. They awaken vividly- 
coloured images, pictures far more brilliant than would 
be called into being by the objects themselves." 

Surely, if this be true, we are taking from children 
that rare power of mental visualisation by offering to 
their outward vision an actual picture. 

I was struck with the following note by a critic of 
the "Outlook," referring to a Japanese play but 
bearing directly on the subject in hand. 

" First, we should be inclined to put insistence upon 
appeal by imagination. Nothing is built up by lath 
and canvas; everything has to be created by the poet's 
speech." 

He alludes to the decoration of one of the scenes, 
which consists of three pines, showing what can be 
conjured up in the mind of the spectator. 

Ah, yes. Unfolding now before my eyes 
The views I know : the Forest, River, Sea 
And Mist — the scenes of Ono now expand. 

I have often heard objections raised to this theory 
by teachers dealing with children whose knowledge 
of objects outside their own little limited circle is so 
scanty that words we use without a suspicion that they 

1 Page 55. 



OVER-ELABORATION 21 

are unfamiliar are really foreign expressions to them. 
Such words as sea, woods, fields, mountains would 
mean nothing to them, unless some explanation were 
offered. To these objections I have replied that 
where we are dealing with objects that can actually 
be seen with the bodily eyes, then it is quite legitimate 
to show pictures of those objects before you begin the 
story, so that the distraction between the actual and 
mental presentation may not cause confusion ; but, as 
the foregoing example shows, we should endeavour 
to accustom the children to seeing much more than 
the mere objects themselves, and in dealing with 
abstract qualities we must rely solely on the power 
and choice of words and dramatic qualities of presen- 
tation, nor need we feel anxious if the response is not 
immediate, or even if it is not quick and eager. 1 

VII. — The danger of obscuring the point of the 
story with too many details. This is not peculiar to 
teachers, nor is it only shown in the narrative form. 
I have often heard really brilliant after-dinner stories 
marred by this defect. One remembers the attempt 
made by Sancho Panza to tell a story to Don Quixote, 
and I have always felt a keen sympathy with the latter 
in his impatience over the recital. 

" ' In a village of Estramadura there was a 
shepherd — no, I mean a goatherd — which shepherd 
— or goatherd — as my story says, was called Lope 
Ruiz — and this Lope Ruiz was in love with a 
shepherdess called Torralva, who was daughter to a 
rich herdsman, and this rich herdsman ' 

" 'If this be thy story, Sancho,' said Don Quixote, 

1. In further illustration of this point see " When Burbage 
played" (Austin Dobson) and "In the Nursery" (Hans C. 
Andersen). 



22 THE DIFFICULTIES OF THE STORY 

' thou wilt not have done these two days. Tell it 
concisely like a man of sense, or else say no more.' 

" ' I tell it in the manner they tell all stories in 
my country,' answered Sancho, ' and I cannot tell 
it otherwise, nor ought your Worship to require 
me to make new customs.' 

" 'Tell it as thou wilt, then,' said Don Quixote; 
' since it is the will of fate that I should hear it, go 
on.' 

" Sancho continued : 
" ' He looked about him until he espied a fisherman 
with a boat near him, but so small that it could only 
hold one person and one goat. The fisherman got 
into the boat and carried over one goat ; he returned 
and carried another ; he came back again and carried 
another. Pray, sir, keep an account of the goats 
which the fisherman is carrying over, for if you lose 
count of a single one, the story ends, and it will be 
impossible to tell a word more ... I go on, then 
. . . He returned for another goat, and another, 
and another and another ' 

" ' Suppose them all carried over,' said Don 
Quixote, ' or thou wilt not have finished carrying 
them this twelve months.' 

"'Tell me, how many have passed already?' 
said Sancho. 

" ' How should I know? ' answered Don Quixote. 

" ' See there, now ! Did I not tell thee to keep 
an exact account? There is an end of the story. 
I can go no further.' 

" ' How can this be? ' said Don Quixote. ' Is it 
so essential to the story to know the exact number 
of goats that passed over, that if one error be made 
the story can proceed no further ? ' 

" ' Even so,' said Sancho Panza." 



NEED FOR A HIGH STANDARD 23 

VIII. — The danger of over-explanation. Again, 
another danger lurks in the temptation to offer over 
much explanation of the story, which is common to 
most story-tellers. This is fatal to the artistic success 
of any story, but it is even more serious in connection 
with stories told from an educational point of view, 
because it hampers the imagination of the listener ; 
and since the development of that faculty is one of our 
chief aims in telling these stories, we must let it have 
free play, nor must we test the effect, as I have said 
before, by the material method of asking questions. 
My own experience is that the fewer explanations you 
offer (provided you have been careful with the choice 
of your material and artistic in the presentation) the 
more readily the child will supplement by his own 
thinking power what is necessary for the understand- 
ing of the story. 

Queyrat says : " A child has no need of seizing on 
the exact meaning of words ; on the contrary, a certain 
lack of precision seems to stimulate his imagination 
only the more vigorously, since it gives it a broader 
liberty and firmer independence." 1 

IX. One special danger lies in the lowering of 
the standard of the story in order to cater to 
the undeveloped taste of the child. I am alluding 
here only to the story which is presented from the 
educational point of view. There are moments of 
relaxation in a child's life, as in that of an adult, when 
a lighter taste can be gratified. I am alluding now to 
the standard of story for school purposes. 

There is one development of the subject which 
seems to have been very little considered either in the 
United States or in our own country, namely, the 

1. From " Les Jeux des Enfants," page 16, 
C 



24 THE DIFFICULTIES OF THE STORY 

telling of stories to old people, and that not only in 
institutions or in quiet country villages, but in the 
heart of the busy cities and in the homes of these old 
people. How often, when the young people are able 
to enjoy outside amusements, the old people, neces- 
sarily confined to the chimney-corner and many 
unable to read much for themselves, might return to 
the joy of their childhood by hearing some of the old 
stories told them in dramatic form. Here is a 
delightful occupation for those of the leisured class 
who have the gift, and a much more effective way of 
capturing attention than the more usual form of 
reading aloud. 

Lady Gregory, in talking to the workhouse folk in 
Ireland, was moved by the strange contrast between 
the poverty of the tellers and the splendours of the 
tale. 

She says : " The stories they love are of quite 
visionary things; of swans that turn into kings' 
daughters, and of castles with crowns over the doors, 
and of lovers' flight on the backs of eagles, and music- 
loving witches, and journeys to the other world, and 
sleeps that last for 700 years." 

I fear it is only the Celtic imagination that will 
glory in such romantic material; but I am sure the 
men and women of the poorhouse are much more 
interested than we are apt to think in stories outside 
the small circle of their lives. 



CHAPTER II. 

The Essentials of the Story. 

It would be a truism to suggest that dramatic instinct 
and dramatic power of expression are naturally the 
first essentials for success in the Art of Story-telling, 
and that, without these, no story-teller would go very 
far ; but I maintain that, even with these gifts, no high 
standard of performance will be reached without 
certain other qualities — among the first of which I 
place apparent simplicity, which is really the art of 
concealing the art. 

I am speaking here of the public story-teller, or of 
the teachers with a group of children — not the 
spontaneous (and most rare) power of telling stories 
at the fireside by some gifted village grandmother, 
such as Beranger gives us in his poem, Souvenirs du 
Peuple : 

Mes enfants, dans ce village, 

Suivi de rois, il passa; 

Voila bien longtemps de ca ; 

Je venais d'entrer en menage. 

A pied grimpant le coteau, 

Ou pour voir je m'etais mise. 

II avait petit chapeau 

Avec redingote grise. 

Pres de lui je me troublai ! 

II me dit : Bonjour, ma chere, 
Bonjour, ma chere. 

II vous a parle, grand 'mere ? 
II vous a parle ? 

I am sceptical enough to think that it is not the 
spontaneity of the grandmother but the art of Beranger 
which enhances the effect of the story told in the poem. 

25 



26 THE ESSENTIALS OF THE STORY 

This intimate form of narration, which is delightful 
in its special surroundings, would fail to reach, much 
less hold, a large audience, no t because of its simplicity 
but often because of the want of skill in arranging 
material and of the artistic sense of selection which 
brings the interest to a focus and arranges the side- 
lights. In short, the simplicity we need for the 
ordinary purpose is that which comes from ease and 
produces a sense of being able to let ourselves go, 
because we have thought out our effects : it is when 
we translate our instinct into art that the story becomes 
finished and complete. 

I find it necessary to emphasise this point because 
people are apt to confuse simplicity of delivery with 
carelessness of utterance, loose stringing of sentences 
of which the only connections seem to be the ever- 
recurring use of " and " and " so," and " er . . ."— 
this latter inarticulate sound has done more to ruin a 
story and distract the audience than many more 
glaring errors of dramatic form. 

The real simplicity holds the audience because the 
lack of apparent effort in the artist has the most 
comforting effect upon the listener. It is like turning 
from the whirring machinery of process to the finished 
article, bearing no trace of manufacture except in 
the harmony and beauty of the whole, from which we 
realise that the individual parts have received all 
proper attention. 

And what really brings about this apparent sim- 
plicity which ensures the success of the story ? It 
has been admirably expressed in a passage from 
Henry James's lecture on Balzac : 

" The fault in the Artist which amounts most 
completely to a failure of dignity is the absence of 
saturation with his idea. When saturation fails, no 



SATURATION 27 

other real presence avails, as when, on the other hand, 
it operates, no failure of method fatally interferes." 

I now offer two illustrations of the effect of this 
saturation, one to show that the failure of method 
does not prevent successful effect, the other to show 
that when it is combined with the necessary secondary 
qualities the perfection of art is reached. 

In illustration of the first point, I recall an experience 
in the North of England when the Head Mistress of 
an elementary school asked me to hear a young, 
inexperienced girl tell a story to a group of very small 
children. 

When she began, I felt somewhat hopeless, because 
of the complete failure of method, She seemed to 
have all the faults most damaging to the success of 
a speaker. Her voice was harsh, her gestures 
awkward, her manner was restless and melodramatic; 
but as she went on, I soon began to discount all these 
faults and, in truth, I soon forgot about them, for so 
absorbed was she in her story, so saturated with her 
subject, that she quickly communicated her own 
interest to her audience, and the children were 
absolutely spellbound. 

The other illustration is connected with a memorable 
peep behind the stage, when the late M. Coquelin had 
invited me to see him in the green-room between the 
first and second Acts of " L'Abbe Constantin," one 
of the plays given during his last season in London, 
the year before his death. The last time I had met 
M. Coquelin was at a dinner-party, where I had been 
dazzled by the brilliant conversation of this great 
artist in the role of a man of the world. But on this 
occasion, I met the simple, kindly priest, so absorbed 
in his role that he inspired me with the wish to offer 
a donation for his poor, and on taking leave to ask 



28 THE ESSENTIALS OF THE STORY 

for his blessing for myself. Whilst talking to him, 
I had felt puzzled : it was only when I had left him 
that I realised what had happened — namely, that he 
was too thoroughly saturated with his subject to be 
able to drop his role during the interval, in order to 
assume the more ordinary one of host and man of the 
world. 

Now, it is this spirit I would wish to inculcate into 
the would-be story-tellers. If they would apply them- 
selves in this manner to their work, it would bring 
about a revolution in the art of presentation, that is, 
in the art of teaching. The difficulty of the practical 
application of this theory is the constant plea, on the 
part of the teachers, that there is not the time to work 
for such a standard in an art which is so apparently 
simple that the work expended on it would never be 
appreciated. 

My answer to this objection is that, though the 
counsel of perfection would be to devote a great deal 
of time to the story, so as to prepare the atmosphere 
quite as much as the mere action of the little drama 
(just as photographers use time exposure to obtain 
sky effects, as well as the more definite objects in the 
picture), yet it is not so much a question of time as 
concentration on the subject which is one of the chief 
factors in the preparation of the story. 

So many story-tellers are satisfied with cheap results, 
and most audiences are not critical enough to 
encourage a high standard. 1 The method of "showing 
the machinery " has more immediate results, and it is 
easy to become discouraged over the drudgery which 

1. A noted Greek gymnast struck his pupil, though he was 
applauded by the whole assembly. " You did it clumsily, and not 
as you ought, for these people would never have praised you for 
anything really artistic." 



THE DRUDGERY OF PREPARATION 29 

is not necessary to secure the approbation of the 
largest number. But, since I am dealing with the 
essentials of really good story-telling, I may be 
pardoned for suggesting the highest standard and the 
means for reaching it. 

Therefore I maintain that capacity for work, and 
even drudgery, is among the essentials of story work. 
Personally I know of nothing more interesting than 
to watch the story grow gradually from mere outline 
into a dramatic whole. It is the same pleasure, I 
imagine, which is felt over the gradual development 
of a beautiful design on a loom. I do not mean 
machine-made work, which has to be done under 
adverse conditions, in a certain time, and is similar 
to thousands of other pieces of work; but that work 
upon which we can bestow unlimited time and con- 
centrated thought. 

The special joy in the slowly-prepared story comes 
in the exciting moment when the persons, or even the 
inanimate objects, become alive and move as of 
themselves. 

I remember spending two or three discouraging 
weeks with Andersen's story of the "Adventures of 
a Beetle." I passed through times of great depres- 
sion, because all the little creatures — beetles, earwigs, 
frogs, etc. — behaved in such a conventional, stilted 
way (instead of displaying the strong individuality 
which Andersen had bestowed upon them) that I 
began to despair of presenting a live company at all. 

But one day the Beetle, so to speak, " took the 
stage," and at once there was life and animation 
among the minor characters. Then the main work 
was done, and there remained only the comparatively 
easy task of guiding the movement of the little drama, 
suggesting side issues and polishing the details, 



3 o THE ESSENTIALS OF THE STORY 

always keeping a careful eye on the Beetle, that he 
might "gang his ain gait" and preserve to the full 
his own individuality. 

There is a tendency in preparing stories to begin 
with detail work (often a gesture or side issue which 
one has remembered from hearing a story told), but 
if this is done before the contemplative period, only 
scrappy, jerky and ineffective results are obtained, on 
which one cannot count for dramatic effects. This 
kind of preparation reminds one of a young peasant 
woman who was taken to see a performance of 
Wilhelm Tell, and when questioned as to the plot, 
could only sum it up by saying, " I know some fruit 
was shot at." 1 

I realise the extreme difficulty for teachers to devote 
the necessary time to the perfecting of the stories they 
tell in school, because this is only one of the subjects 
they have to take in an already over-crowded curri- 
culum. To them I would offer this practical advice : 
Do not be afraid to repeat your stories. 2 If you did 
not undertake more than seven stories a year (chosen 
with infinite care), and if you repeated these stories 
six times during the year of forty-two weeks, you 
would be able to do artistic (and therefore lasting) 
work; you would give a very great deal of pleasure 
to the children, who delight in hearing a story many 
times. You would be able to avoid the direct moral 
application (to which subject I shall return later on); 
for each time a child hears a story artistically told, a 
little more of the meaning underlying the simple story 

1. For further details on the question of preparation of the 
story, see chapter on " Questions asked by Teachers." 

2. Sully says that children love exact repetition because of the 
intense enjoyment bound up with the process of imaginative 
realisation. 



THE IMPORTANCE OF POLISH 31 

will come to him without any explanation on your 
part. The habit of doing one's best, instead of one's 
second-best, means, in the long run, that one has no 
interest except in the preparation of the best, and the 
stories, few in number, polished and finished in style, 
will have an effect of which one can scarcely over-state 
the importance. 

In the story of the Swineherd, 1 Hans Andersen 
says : 

" On the grave of the Prince's father there grew a 
rose-tree. It only bloomed once in five years, and 
only bore one rose. But what a rose ! Its perfume 
was so exquisite that whoever smelt it forgot at once 
all his cares and sorrows." 

Lafcadio Hearn says : " Time weeds out the errors 
and stupidities of cheap success, and presents the 
Truth. It takes, like the aloe, a long time to flower, 
but the blossom is all the more precious when it 
appears." 

1. See p. 150. 



CHAPTER III. 

The Artifices of Story-telling. 

By this term I do not mean anything against the 
gospel of simplicity which I am so constantly preach- 
ing, but, for want of a better term, I use the word 
" artifice ' ' to express the mechanical devices by which 
we endeavour to attract and hold the attention of the 
audience. The art of telling stories is, in truth, much 
more difficult than acting a part on the stage : first, 
because the narrator is responsible for the whole 
drama and the whole atmosphere which surrounds it. 
He has to live the life of each character and under- 
stand the relation which each bears to the whole. 
Secondly, because the stage is a miniature one, 
gestures and movements must all be so adjusted as 
not to destroy the sense of proportion. I have often 
noticed that actors, accustomed to the more roomy 
public stage, are apt to be too broad in their gestures 
and movements when they tell a story. The special 
training for the Story-teller should consist not only in 
the training of the voice and in choice of language, 
but above all in power of delicate suggestion, which 
cannot always be used on the stage because this is 
hampered by the presence of actual things. The 
Story-teller has to present these things to the more 
delicate organism of the " inward eye." 

So deeply convinced am I of the miniature character 
of the Story-telling Art that I do not believe you can 
ever get a perfectly artistic presentation of this kind 
in a very large hall or before a very large audience. 

32 



PAUSING FOR EFFECT 33 

I have made experiments along this line, having 
twice told a story to an audience exceeding five 
thousand, in the States, 1 but on both occasions, 
though the dramatic reaction upon oneself from the 
response of so large an audience was both gratifying 
and stimulating, I was forced to sacrifice the delicacy 
of the story and to take from its artistic value by the 
necessity of emphasis, in order to be heard by all 
present. 

Emphasis is the bane of all story -telling, for it 
destroys the delicacy, and the whole performance 
suggests a struggle in conveying the message ; the 
indecision of the victory leaves the audience restless 
and unsatisfied. 

Then, again, as compared with acting on the stage, 
in telling a story you miss the help of effective 
entrances and exits, the footlights, the costume, the 
facial expression of your fellow-actor which interprets 
so much of what you yourself say without further 
elaboration on your part; for, in the story, in case of 
a dialogue which necessitates great subtlety and 
quickness in facial expression and gesture, you have 
to be both speaker and listener. 

Now, of what artifices can we make use to take the 
place of all the extraneous help offered to actors on 
the stage ? 

First and foremost, as a means of suddenly pulling 
up the attention of the audience, is the judicious Art 
of Pausing. 

For those who have not actually had experience in 
the matter, this advice will seem trite and unnecessary, 
but those who have even a little experience will realise 
with me the extraordinary efficacy of this very simple 

I. Once at the Summer School at Chatauqua, New York, and once 
in Lincoln Park, Chicago. 



34 THE ARTIFICES OF STORY-TELLING 

means. It is really what Coquelin spoke of as a 
"high light," where the interest is focussed, as it 
were, to a point. 

I have tried this simple art of pausing with every 
kind of audience, and I have very rarely known it to 
fail. It is very difficult to offer a concrete example of 
this, unless one is giving a "live" representation; 
but I shall make an attempt, and at least I shall hope 
to make myself understood by those who have heard 
me tell stories. 

In Hans C. Andersen's " Princess and the Pea," 1 
the King goes down to open the door himself. Now, 
you may make this point in two ways. You may 
either say : "And then the King went to the door, 
and at the door there stood a real Princess," or, "And 
then the King went to the door, and at the door there 
stood — (pause) — a real Princess." 

It is difficult to exaggerate the difference of effect 
produced by so slight a cause. 2 With children it 
means an unconscious curiosity which expresses itself 
in a sudden muscular tension — there is just time, 
during that instant's pause, to feel, though not to 
formulate, the question : " What is standing at the 
door?" By this means half your work of holding 
the attention is accomplished. It is not necessary for 
me to enter into the psychological reason of this, but 
I strongly recommend those who are interested in the 
question to read the chapter in Ribot's work on this 
subject, Essai sur V Imagination creatrice, as well as 
Mr. Keatinge's work on " Suggestion." 

I would advise all teachers to revise their stories 
with a view to introducing the judicious Pause, and 
to vary its use according to the age, the number and, 

1. See p. 156. 

2. There must be no more emphasis in the second manner than the 
first. 



THE USE OF GESTURE 35 

above all, the mood of the audience. Experience 
alone can ensure success in this matter. It has taken 
me many years to realise the importance of this 
artifice. 

Among other means of holding the attention of the 
audience and helping to bring out the points of the 
story is the use of gesture. I consider, however, it 
must be a sparing use, and not of a broad or definite 
character. We shall never improve on the advice 
given by Hamlet to the actors on this subject : " See 
that ye o'erstep not the modesty of Nature." 

And yet, perhaps, it is not necessary to warn Story- 
tellers against abase of gesture : it is more helpful to 
encourage them in the use of it, especially in Anglo- 
Saxon countries, where we are fearful of expressing 
ourselves in this way, and, when we do, the gesture 
often lacks subtlety. The Anglo-Saxon, when he does 
move at all, moves in solid blocks — a whole arm, a 
whole leg, the whole body — but if you watch a 
Frenchman or an Italian in conversation, you suddenly 
realise how varied and subtle are the things which can 
be suggested by the mere turn of the wrist or the 
movement of a finger. The power of the hand has 
been so wonderfully summed up in a passage from 
Quintilian that I am justified in offering it to all 
those who wish to realise what can be done by 
gesture : 

"As to the hands, without the aid of which all 
delivery would be deficient and weak, it can scarcely 
be told of what a variety of motions they are suscep- 
tible, since they almost equal in expression the power 
of language itself. For other parts of the body assist 
the speaker, but these, I may almost say, speak 
themselves. With our hands we ask, promise, call 
persons to us and send them away, threaten, suppli- 



36 THE ARTIFICES OF STORY-TELLING 

cate, intimate dislike or fear; with our hands we 
signify joy, grief, doubt, acknowledgment, penitence, 
and indicate measure, quantity, number and time. 
Have not our hands the power of inciting, of restrain- 
ing, or beseeching, of testifying approbation 

So that amidst the great diversity of tongues per- 
vading all nations and peoples, the language of the 
hands appears to be a language common to all men." 
(From " Education of an Orator," Book II, Chap. 3.) 

One of the most effective artifices in telling stories 
to young children is the use of mimicry — the imitation 
of animals' voices and sounds in general is of never- 
ending joy to the listeners. Only, I should wish to 
introduce a note of grave warning in connection with 
this subject. This special artifice can only be used 
by such narrators as have special aptitude and gifts 
in this direction. There are many people with good 
imaginative power but wholly lacking in the power 
of mimicry, whose efforts in this direction, however 
painstaking, would remain grotesque and therefore 
ineffective. When listening to such performances (of 
which children are strangely critical) one is reminded 
of the French story in which the amateur animal 
painter is showing her picture to an undiscriminating 
friend : 

"Ah !" says the friend, " this is surely meant for a 
lion?" 

" No," says the artist, with some slight show of 
temper; " it is my little lap-dog." 

Another artifice which is particularly successful 
with very small children is to ensure their attention 
by inviting their co-operation before you actually 
begin the story. The following has proved quite 
effective as a short introduction to my stories when I 
was addressing large audiences of children: 



INVITING CO-OPERATION 37 

" Do you know that last night I had a very strange 
dream, which I am going to tell you before I begin 
the stories. I dreamed that I was walking along the 

streets of (here would follow the town in which 

I happened to be speaking), with a large bundle on 
my shoulders, and this bundle was full of stories which 
I had been collecting all over the world in different 
countries ; and I was shouting at the top of my voice : 
1 Stories ! Stories ! Stories ! Who will listen to my 
stories ? ' And the children came flocking round me 
in my dream, saying : ' Tell us your stories. We will 
listen to your stories.' So I pulled out a story from 
my big bundle and I began in a most excited way, 
' Once upon a time there lived a King and a Queen 

who had no children, and they ' Here a little boy, 

very much like that little boy I see sitting in the front 
row, stopped me, saying : ' Oh ! I know that old 
story ; it's Sleeping Beauty.' 

" So I pulled out a second story, and began : ' Once 
upon a time there was a little girl who was sent by 

her mother to visit her grandmother ' Then a 

little girl, so much like the one sitting at the end of 
the second row, said : ' Oh ! everybody knows that 
story ! It's ' " 

Here I would make a judicious pause, and then the 
children in the audience would shout in chorus, with 
joyful superiority: "Little Red Riding-Hood!" 
(before I had time to explain that the children in my 
dream had done the same). 

This method I repeated two or three times, being 
careful to choose very well-known stories. By this 
time the children were all encouraged and stimulated. 
I usually finished with congratulations on the number 
of stories they knew, expressing a hope that some of 
those I was going to tell that afternoon would be new 
to them. ' 



38 THE ARTIFICES OF STORY-TELLING 

I have rarely found this plan fail for establishing a 
friendly relation between oneself and the juvenile 
audience. 

It is often a matter of great difficulty, not to win the 
attention of an audience but to keep it, and one of the 
most subtle artifices is to let the audience down 
(without their perceiving it) after a dramatic situation, 
so that the reaction may prepare them for the interest 
of the next situation. 

An excellent instance of this is to be found in 
Rudyard Kipling's story of "The Cat that walked . ." 
where the repetition of words acts as a sort of sedative 
until you realise the beginning of a fresh situation. 

The great point is never to let the audience quite 
down, that is, in stories which depend on dramatic 
situations. It is just a question of shade and colour 
in the language. If you are telling a story in sections, 
and spread over two or three occasions, you should 
always stop at an exciting moment. It encourages 
speculation between whiles in the children's minds, 
which increases their interest when the story is taken 
up again. 

Another very necessary quality in the mere artifice 
of story-telling is to watch your audience, so as to 
be able to know whether its mood is for action or 
reaction, and to alter your story accordingly. The 
moods of reaction are rarer, and you must use them 
for presenting a different kind of material. Here is 
your opportunity for introducing a piece of poetic 
description, given in beautiful language, to which the 
children cannot listen when they are eager for action 
and dramatic excitement. 

Perhaps one of the greatest artifices is to take a 
quick hold of your audience by a striking beginning 
which will enlist their attention from the start; you 



VIVID OPENINGS 39 

can then relax somewhat, but you must be careful 
also of the end, because that is what remains most 
vivid for the children. If you question them as to 
which story they like best in a programme, you will 
constantly find it to be the last one you have told, 
which has for the moment blurred out the others. 

Here are a few specimens of beginnings which 
seldom fail to arrest the attention of the child : 

" There was once a giant ogre, and he lived in a 
cave by himself." 

— From " The Giant and the Jackstraws," 

Starr Jordan. 

" There were once twenty-five tin soldiers, who were 
all brothers, for they had been made out of the same 
old tin spoon." 

— From " The Tin Soldier/' Hans C. Andersen. 

" There was once an Emperor who had a horse shod 
with gold." 

—From " The Beetle" Hans C. Andersen. 

" There was once a merchant who was so rich that 
he could have paved the whole street with gold, and 
even then he would have had enough for a small 
alley." 

— From " The Flying Trunk," Hans C. Andersen. 

" There was once a shilling which came forth from 
the mint springing and shouting, ' Hurrah ! Now I 
am going out into the wide world.' " 

— From- " The Silver Shilling," Hans C. Andersen. 

" In the High and Far Off Times the Elephant, O 
Best Beloved, had no trunk." 

—From " The Elephant's Child " : Just So 

Stories, Rudyard Kipling. 



4 o THE ARTIFICES OF STORY-TELLING 

" Not always was the Kangaroo as now we behold 
him, but a Different Animal with four short legs." 
— From "Old Man Kangaroo " : Just So 

Stories, Rudyard Kipling. 

" Whichever way I turn," said the weather-cock on 
a high steeple, " no one is satisfied." 

— From " Fireside Fables," Edwin Barrow. 

"A set of chessmen, left standing on their board, 
resolved to alter the rules of the game." 

— From the same source. 

" The Pink Parasol had tender whalebone ribs and 
a slender stick of cherry-wood." 
—From "Very Short Stories," Mrs. W. K. Clifford. 

" There was once a poor little Donkey on Wheels; 
it had never wagged its tail, or tossed its head, or said 
' Hee-haw,' or tasted a tender thistle." 

— From the same source. 

Now, some of these beginnings are, of course, for 
very young children, but they all have the same 
advantage, that of plunging in medias res, and there- 
fore are able to arrest attention at once, as distinct 
from the stories which open on a leisurely note of 
description. 

In the same way we must be careful about the 
endings of the stories ; in some way or other they must 
impress themselves either in a very dramatic climax 
to which the whole story has worked up, such as we 
have in the following : 

" Then he goes out to the Wet Wild Woods, or up 
the Wet Wild Trees, or on the Wet Wild Roofs, 
waving his Wild Tail, and walking by his Wild 
Lone." 

— From " Just So Stories" Rudyard Kipling. 



DRAMATIC ENDINGS 41 

Or by an anti-climax for effect : 

" We have all this straight out of the alderman's 
newspaper, but it is not to be depended on." 

— From " Jack the Dullard," Hans C. Andersen. 

Or by evading the point : 

" Whoever does not believe this must buy shares 
in the Tanner's yard." 

— From "A Great Grief," Hans C. Andersen. 

Or by some striking general comment : 

" He has never caught up with the three days he 
missed at the beginning of the world, and he has 
never learnt how to behave." 

— From " How the Camel got his Hump " : 

Just So Stories, Rudyard Kipling. 



CHAPTER IV. 

Elements to Avoid in Selection of Material. 

1 am confronted, in this portion of my work, with a 
great difficulty, because I cannot afford to be as 
catholic as I could wish (this rejection or selection of 
material being primarily intended for those story- 
tellers dealing with normal children) ; but I wish from 
the outset to distinguish between a story told to an 
individual child in the home circle or by a personal 
friend, and a story told to a group of children as part 
of the school curriculum. And if I seem to reiterate 
this difference, it is because I wish to show very clearly 
that the recital of parents and friends may be quite 
separate in content and manner from that offered by 
the teaching world. In the former case, almost any 
subject can be treated, because, knowing the individual 
temperament of the child, a wise parent or friend 
knows also what can be presented or not presented 
to the child ; but in dealing with a group of normal 
children in school, much has to be eliminated that 
could be given fearlessly to the abnormal child : I 
mean the child who, by circumstances or temperament, 
is developed beyond its years. 

I shall now mention some of the elements which 
experience has shown me to be unsuitable for class 
stories, 

44 



ANALYSIS OF MOTIVE AND FEELING 43 

L — Stories dealing with analysis of motive and 
feeling. 

This warning is specially necessary to-day, because 
this is above all an age of introspection and analysis. 
We have only to glance at the principal novels and 
plays during the last quarter of a century — most 
especially during the last ten years — to see how this 
spirit has crept into our literature and life. 

Now, this tendency to analyse is obviously more 
dangerous for children than for adults, because, from 
lack of experience and knowledge of psychology, the 
child's analysis is incomplete. He cannot see all the 
causes of the action, nor can he make that philosophical 
allowance for mood which brings the adult to truer 
conclusions. 

Therefore we should discourage children who show 
a tendency to analyse too closely the motives of their 
actions, and refrain from presenting in our stories 
any example which might encourage them to persist 
in this course. 

I remember, on one occasion, when I went to say 
good-night to a little girl of my acquaintance, I found 
her sitting . up in bed, very wide awake. Her eyes 
were shining, her cheeks were flushed, and when I 
asked her what had excited her so much, she said : 

, " I know I have done something wrong to-day, but 
I cannot quite remember what it was." 

I said : '* But Phyllis, if you put your hand, which 
is really quite small, in front of your eyes, you could 
not see the shape of anything else, however large it 
might be. Now, what you have done to-day appears 
very large because it is so close, but when it is a little 
further off, you will be able to see better and know 
more about it. So let us wait till to-morrow morning." 

I am happy to say that she took my advice. She 
was soon fast asleep, and the next morning she had 



44 ELEMENTS TO AVOID 

forgotten the wrong over which she had been 
unhealthily brooding the night before. 1 

II. — Stories dealing too much with sarcasm and 
satire. These are weapons which are too sharply 
polished, and therefore too dangerous, to place in the 
hands of children. For here again, as in the case of 
analysis, they can only have a very incomplete concep- 
tion of the case. They do not know the real cause which 
produces the apparently ridiculous situation : it is 
experience and knowledge which lead to the discovery 
of the pathos and sadness which often underlie the 
ridiculous appearance, and it is only the abnormally 
gifted child or grown-up person who discovers this by 
instinct. It takes a lifetime to arrive at the position 
described in Sterne's words : " I would not have let 
fallen an unseasonable pleasantry in the venerable 
presence of misery to be entitled to all the Wit which 
Rabelais has ever scattered." 

I will hasten to add that I should not wish children 
to have their sympathy too much drawn out, or their 
emotions kindled too much to pity, because this would 
be neither healthy nor helpful to themselves or others. 
I only want to protect the children from the dangerous 
critical attitude induced by the use of satire : it 
sacrifices too much of the atmosphere of trust and 
belief in human beings which ought to be an essential 
of child-life. If we indulge in satire, the sense of 
kindness in children tends to become perverted, their 
sympathy cramped, and they themselves to become old 
before their time. We have an excellent example of 
this in Hans C. Andersen's "Snow Queen." 

When Kay gets the piece of broken mirror into his 

1. Such works as " Ministering Children," " The Wide, Wide 
World," " The Fairchild Family," are instances of the kind of story 
I mean, as containing too much analysis of emotion. 



SENTIMENTALITY 45 

eye, he no longer sees the world from the normal 
child's point of view : he can no longer see anything 
but the foibles of those about him — a condition usually 
only reached by a course of pessimistic experience. 

Andersen sums up the unnatural point of view in 
these words : 

" When Kay tried to repeat the Lord's Prayer, he 
could only remember the multiplication table." Now, 
without taking these words in any literal sense, we 
can admit that they represent the development of the 
head at the expense of the heart. 

An example of this kind of story to avoid is 
Andersen's " Story of the Butterfly." The bitterness 
of the Anemones, the sentimentality of the Violets, 
the schoolgirlishness of the Snowdrops, the domes- 
ticity of the Sweet-peas — all this tickles the palate of 
the adult, but does not belong to the plane of the 
normal child. Again I repeat that the unusual child 
may take all this in and even preserve its kindly 
attitude towards the world, but it is a dangerous 
atmosphere for the ordinary child. 

III. — Stories of a sentimental kind. Strange to say, 
this element of sentimentality often appeals more to 
the young teachers than to the children themselves. 
It is difficult to define the difference between sentiment 
and sentimentality, but the healthy normal boy or 
girl of — let us say ten or eleven years old seems to 
feel it unconsciously, though the distinction is not 
so clear a few years later. 

Mrs. Elizabeth McKracken contributed an excellent 
article some years ago to the American Outlook on 
the subject of literature for the young, in which we 
find a good illustration of this power of discrimination 
on the part of a child. 

A young teacher was telling her pupils the story of 



46 ELEMENTS TO AVOID 

the emotional lady who, to put her lover to the test, 
bade him pick up the glove which she had thrown 
down into the arena between the tiger and the lion. 
The lover does her bidding, in order to vindicate his 
character as a brave knight. One boy, after hearing 
the story, at once states his contempt for the knight's 
acquiescence, which he declares to be unworthy. 

" But," says the teacher, " you see he really did it 
to show the lady how foolish she was." The answer 
of the boy sums up what I have been trying to show : 
"■ There was no sense in his being sillier than she was, 
to show her she was silly." 

If the boy had stopped there, we might have 
concluded that he was lacking in imagination or 
romance, but his next remark proves what a balanced 
and discriminating person he was, for he added : 
" Now, if she had fallen in, and he had leapt after 
her to rescue her, that would have been splendid and 
of some use." Given the character of the lady, we 
might, as adults, question the last part of the boy's 
statement, but this is pure cynicism and fortunately 
does not enter' into the child's calculations. 

In my own personal experience (and I have told this 
story often in the German ballad form to girls of ten 
and twelve in the High Schools in England) I have 
never found one girl who sympathised with the lady or 
who failed to appreciate the poetic justice meted out to 
her in the end by the dignified renunciation of the 
knight. 

Chesterton defines sentimentality as " a tame, cold, 
or small and inadequate manner of speaking about 
certain matters which demand very large and beautiful 
expression." 

I would strongly urge upon young teachers to revise, 
by this definition, some of the stories they have 



, SENSATIONAL EPISODES 47 

included in their repertory, and see whether they would 
stand the test or not. 

IV. — Stories containing strong sensational episodes. 
The danger is all the greater because many children 
delight in it, and some crave for it in the abstract, but 
fear it in the concrete. 1 

An affectionate aunt, on one occasion, anxious to 
curry favour with a four-year-old nephew, was taxing 
her imagination to find a story suitable for his tender 
years. She was greatly startled when he suddenly 
said, in a most imperative tone : " Tell me the story 
of a bear eating a small boy." This was so remote 
from her own choice of subject that she hesitated at 
first, but coming to the conclusion that as the child 
had chosen the situation he would feel no terror in the 
working up of its details, she began a most thrilling 
and blood-curdling story, leading up to the final 
catastrophe. But just as she had reached the great 
dramatic moment, the child raised his hands in terror 
and said : " Oh ! Auntie, don't let the bear really eat 
the boy!" 

" Don't you know," said an impatient boy who had 
been listening to a mild adventure story considered 
suitable to his years, " that I don't take any interest 
in the story until the decks are dripping with gore?" 
Here we have no opportunity of deciding whether or 
not the actual description demanded would be more 
alarming than the listener had realised. 

Here is a poem of James Stephens, showing a 
child's taste for sensational things : — 

A man was sitting underneath a tree 

Outside the village, and he asked me 

What name was upon this place, and said he 

Was never here before. He told a 

Lot of stories to me too. His nose was flat. 

1. One child's favourite book bore the exciting title of " Birth, 
Life and Death of Crazy Jane." 



48 ELEMENTS TO AVOID 

I asked him how it happened, and he said, 

The first mate of the " Mary Ann " done that, 

With a marling-spike one day, but he was dead, 

And a jolly job too, but he'd have gone a long way to have 

killed him. 
A gold ring in one ear, and the other was bit off by a 

crocodile, bedad, 
That's what he said : He taught me how to chew. 
He was a real nice man. He liked me too. 

The taste that is fed by the sensational contents of 
the newspapers and the dramatic excitement of street 
life, and some of the lurid representations of the 
Kinematograph, is so much stimulated that the interest 
in normal stories is difficult to rouse. I will not here 
dwell on the deleterious effects of over dramatic 
stimulation, which has been known to lead to crime, 
since I am keener to prevent the telling of too many 
sensational stories than to suggest a cure when the 
mischief is done. Kate Douglas Wiggin has said : 

"Let us be realistic, by all means, but beware, O 
Story-teller, of being too realistic. Avoid the shudder- 
ing tale of ' the wicked boy who stoned the birds,' lest 
some hearer should be inspired to try the dreadful 
experiment and see if it really does kill." 

I must emphasise the fact, however, that it is only 
the excess of this dramatic element which I deplore. 
A certain amount of excitement is necessary ; but this 
question belongs to the positive side of the subject, and 
I shall deal with it later on. 

V. — Stories presenting matters quite outside the 
plane of the child (unless they are wrapped in mystery, 
which is of great educational value). 

The element I wish to eliminate is the one which 
would make children world-wise and old before their 
time. 

A small American child who had entertained a guest 
in her mother's absence, when questioned as to whether 



EXCESSIVE REALISM 49 

she had shown all the hospitality the mother would 
have considered necessary, said : " Oh ! yes. And I 
talked to her in the kind of ' dressy ' tone you use on 
your ' At Home ' days." 

On one occasion I was lecturing in the town of 
Cleveland, and was to stay in the house of a lady 
whom I had met only once, in New York, but with true 
American hospitality she had begged me to make her 
house my home during the whole of my stay in 
Cleveland. In writing to invite me, she mentioned the 
pleasure it would afford her little ten-year-old daughter 
to make my acquaintance, and added this somewhat 
enigmatic sentence : " Mignon has asked permission 
to dedicate her last work to you." I was alarmed at 
the word last, given the age of the author, and felt 
sorry that the literary faculty had developed quite so 
early, lest the unfettered and irresponsible years of 
childhood should have been sacrificed. I was still 
more troubled when, upon my arrival, I learned that 
the title of the book which was to be dedicated to me 
was " The Two Army Girls," and contained the 
elaborate history of a double courtship. But, as the 
story was read to me, I was soon disarmed. A more 
innocent recital I never heard — and it was all the 
quainter because of certain little grown-up sentences 
gathered from the conversation of elders in unguarded 
moments, which evidently conveyed but slight mean- 
ing to the youthful authoress. The final scene between 
two of the lovers is so characteristic that I cannot 
refrain from quoting the actual words. Said John : 
" I love you, and I wish you to be my wife." " That 
I will," said Mary, without any hesitation. "That's 
all right," said John. " And now let us get back to 
the Golf Links." 

Oh, that modern writers of fiction would " get back 



50 ELEMENTS TO AVOID 

to the Golf Links " sooner than they do, realising with 
this little unconscious philosopher that there are some 
reactions from love-making which show a healthy and 
balanced constitution. 

Experience with children ought to teach us to avoid 
stories which contain too much allusion to matters of 
which the hearers are entirely ignorant; but, judging 
from the written stories of to-day, supposed to be for 
children, it is still a matter of difficulty to realise that 
this form of allusion to " foreign " matters, or making 
a joke the appreciation of which depends solely on a 
special and " inside " knowledge, is always bewilder- 
ing and fatal to sustained dramatic interest. 

It is a matter of intense regret that so very few 
people have sufficiently clear remembrance of their own 
childhood to help them to understand the taste and 
point of view of the normal child. There is a passage 
in the " Brownies" (by Mrs. Ewing) which illustrates 
the confusion created in the child mind by a facetious 
allusion in a dramatic moment which needed a more 
direct treatment. 

When the nursery toys have all gone astray, one 
little child exclaims joyfully : 

" Why, the old Rocking-Horse's nose has turned 
up in the oven !" 

" It couldn't " remarks a tiresome, facetious doctor, 
far more anxious to be funny than to sympathise with 
the joy of the child ; " it was the purest Grecian, 
modelled from the Elgin marbles." 

Now, for grown-up people this is an excellent joke, 
but for a child who has not yet become acquainted with 
these Grecian masterpieces, the whole remark is point- 
less and hampering. 1 

1. This does not imply that the child would not appreciate in the 
right context the thrilling and romantic story in connection with 
the finding of the Elgin marbles. 



ENCOURAGEMENT OF PRIGGISHNESS 51 

VI. — Stories which appeal to fear or priggishness. 
This is a class of story to be avoided which scarcely 
counts to-day and against which the teacher does not 
need a warning ; but I wish to make a passing allusion 
to it, partly to round off my subject and partly to 
show that we have made some improvement in choice 
of subject. 

When I study the evolution of the story from the 
crude recitals offered to our children within the last 
hundred years, I feel that, though our progress in 
intelligent mental catering may be slow, it is real and 
sure. One has only to take some examples from the 
Chap Books of the beginning of last century to realise 
the difference of appeal. Everything offered then was 
either an appeal to fear or to priggishness, and one 
wonders how it is that our grandparents and their 
parents ever recovered from the effects of such stories 
as were offered to them. But there is the consoling 
thought that no lasting impression was made upon 
them, such as I believe may be possible by the right 
kind of story. 

I offer a few examples of the old type of story : 

Here is an encouraging address offered by a certain 
Mr. Janeway to children about the year 1828 : 

" Dare you do anything which your parents forbid 
you, and neglect to do what they command? Dare 
you to run up and down on the Lord's Day, or do 
you keep in to read your book, and learn what your 
good parents command?" 

Such an address would have almost tempted children 
to envy the lot of orphans, except that the guardians 
and less close relations might have been equally, if not 
more, severe. 

From "The Curious Girl," published about 1809: 
" Oh ! papa, I hope you will have no reason to be 



52 ELEMENTS TO AVOID 

dissatisfied with me, for I love my studies very much, 
and I am never so happy at my play as when I have 
been assiduous at my lessons all day." 

" Adolphus : How strange it is, papa, you should 
believe it possible for me to act so like a child, now 
that I am twelve years old ! ' ' 

Here is a specimen taken from a Chap-book about 
1825: 

Edward refuses hot bread at breakfast. His hostess 
asks whether he likes it. " Yes, I am extremely fond 
of it." "Why did you refuse it?" "Because I 
know that my papa does not approve of my eating it. 
Am I to disobey a Father and Mother I love so well, 
and forget my duty, because they are a long way off ? 
I would not touch the cake, were I sure nobody could 
see me. I myself should know it, and that would 
be sufficient." 

" Nobly replied !" exclaimed Mrs. C. " Act always 
thus, and you must be happy, for although the whole 
world should refuse the praise that is due, you must 
enjoy the approbation of your conscience, which is 
beyond anything else." 

Here is a quotation of the same kind from Mrs. 
Sherwood : 

" Tender-souled little creatures, desolated by a sense 
of sin, if they did but eat a spoonful of cupboard jam 
without Mamma's express permission. . . . Would a 
modern Lucy, jealous of her sister Emily's doll, break 
out thus easily into tearful apology for her guilt ? — ' I 
know it is wicked in me to be sorry that Emily is 
happy, but I feel that I cannot help it.' And would a 
modern mother retort with heartfelt joy ? — ' My dear 
child, I am glad you have confessed. Now I shall tell 
you why you feel this wicked sorrow ' — proceeding to 
an account of the depravity of human nature so un- 



UNWHOLESOME EXTRAVAGANCE 53 

redeemed by comfort for a childish mind of common 
intelligence that one can scarcely imagine the 
interview ending in anything less tragic than a fit of 
juvenile hysteria." 

Description of a Good Boy. "A good boy is dutiful 
to his Father and Mother, obedient to his master and 
loving to his playfellows. He is diligent in learning 
his book, and takes a pleasure in improving himself 
in everything that is worthy of praise. He rises early 
in the morning, makes himself clean and decent, and 
says his prayers. He loves to hear good advice, is 
thankful to those who give it and always follows it. 
He never swears x or calls names or uses ill words to 
companions. He is never peevish and fretful, always 
cheerful and good-tempered." 

VII. — Stories of exaggerated and coarse fun. In the 
chapter on the positive side of this subject I shall 
speak more in detail of the educational value of robust 
and virile representation of fun and of sheer nonsense, 
but as a representation to these statements, I should 
like to strike a note of warning about the element of 
exaggerated and coarse fun being encouraged in our 
school stories, partly because of the lack of humour in 
such presentations — a natural product of stifling 
imagination — and partly because the train of the 
abnormal has the same effect as the too frequent use 
of the melodramatic. 

You have only to read the adventures of Buster 
Brown, which for years formed the Sunday reading of 
millions of children in the United States, to realise 
what would be the effect of coarse fun and entire 
absence of humour upon the normal child in its every- 

1. One is almost inclined to prefer Marjorie Fleming's little 
innocent oaths. "But she was more than usual calm. She did not 
give a single dam," 



54 ELEMENTS TO AVOID 

day experience, an effect all the greater because of the 
real skill with which the illustrations are drawn. It is 
only fair to state that this series was not originally 
prepared or intended for the young, but it is a matter 
of regret (shared by most educationists in the States) 
that they should ever have been given to children at 
all. 

In an article in Macmillan's Magazine, Dec. 1869, 
Miss Yonge writes : " A taste for buffoonery is much 
to be discouraged, an exclusive taste for extravagance 
most unwholesome and even perverting. It becomes 
destructive of reverence and soon degenerates into 
coarseness. It permits nothing poetical or imaginative, 
nothing sweet or pathetic to exist, and there is a 
certain self-satisfaction and superiority in making 
game of what others regard with enthusiasm and 
sentiment which absolutely bars the way against a 
higher or softer tone." 

Although these words were written nearly half a 
century ago, they are so specially applicable to-day 
that they seem quite "up-to-date": indeed, I think 
they will hold equally good fifty years hence. 

In spite of a strong taste on the part of children for 
what is ugly and brutal, I am sure that we ought to 
eliminate this element as far as possible from the 
school stories — especially among poor children. Not 
because I think children should be protected from all 
knowledge of evil, but because so much of this know- 
ledge comes into their life outside school that we can 
well afford to ignore it during school hours. At the 
same time, however, as I shall show by example when 
I come to the positive side, it would be well to show 
children by story illustration the difference between 
brute ugliness without anything to redeem it and 
surface ugliness, which may be only a veil oyer the 



MORAL TALES 55 

Deauty that lies underneath. It might be possible, for 
instance, to show children the difference between the 
real ugliness of a brutal story of crime and an illustra- 
tion of it in the sensational papers, and the apparent 
ugliness in the priest's face of the " Laocoon " group, 
because of the motive of courage and endurance behind 
the suffering. Many stories in everyday life could be 
found to illustrate this. 

VIII. Stories of infant piety and death-bed scenes. 
The stories for children forty years ago contained 
much of this element, and the following examples will 
illustrate this point : 

Notes from poems written by a child between six and 
eight years of age, by name Philip Freeman, after- 
wards Archdeacon of Exeter : 

Poor Robin, thou canst fly no more, 

Thy joys and sorrows all are o'er. 

Through Life's tempestuous storms thou'st trod, 

But now art sunk beneath the sod. 

Here lost and gone poor Robin lies, 

He trembles, lingers, falls and dies. 

He's gone, he's gone, forever lost, 

No more of him they now can boast. 

Poor Robin's dangers all are past, 

He struggled to the very last. 

Perhaps he spent a happy Life, 

Without much struggle and much strife. 

Published by John Loder, bookseller, 
Woodbridge, in 1829.. 

The prolonged gloom of the main theme is some- 
what lightened by the speculative optimism of the last 
verse. 

Life, transient Life, is but a dream, 

Like Sleep which short doth lengthened seem 

Till dawn of day, when the bird's lay 

Doth charm the soul's first peeping gleam. 

E 



56 ELEMENTS TO AVOID 

Then farewell to the parting year, 
Another's come to Nature dear. 
In every place, thy brightening face 
Does welcome winter's snowy drear, 

Alas ! our time is much mis-spent. 
Then we must haste and now repent. 
We have a book in which to look, 
For we on Wisdom should be bent. 

Should God, the Almighty, King of all, 
Before His judgment-seat now call 
Us to that place of Joy and Grace 
Prepared for us since Adam's fall. 

I think there is no doubt that we have made con- 
siderable progress in this matter. Not only do we 
refrain from telling these highly moral (sic) stories 
but we have reached the point of parodying them, in 
sign of ridicule, as, for instance, in such writing as 
Belloc's " Cautionary Tales." These would be a 
trifle too grim for a timid child, but excellent fun for 
adults. 

It should be our study to-day to prove to children 
that the immediate importance to them is not to think 
of dying and going to Heaven, but of living and — shall 
we say? — going to College, which is a far better 
preparation for a life to come than the morbid dwelling 
upon the possibility of an early death. 

In an article signed " Muriel Harris," I think, from 
a copy of the Tribune, appeared a delightful article on 
Sunday Books, from which I quote the following : 

" All very good little children died young in the 
story-books, so that unusual goodness must have been 
the source of considerable anxiety to affectionate 
parents. I came across a little old book the other day 
called ' Examples for Youth.' On the yellow fly-leai 
was written in childish, carefully sloping hand 



SCIENCE AID FAIRY STORIEvS 57 

1 Presented to Mary Palmer Junior, by her sister, to 
be read on Sundays,' and was dated 1828. The 
accounts are taken from a work on Piety Promoted, 
and all of them begin with unusual piety in early youth 
and end with the death-bed of the little paragon, and 
his or her dying words." 

IX. — Stories containing a mixture of Fairy Tale and 
Science. By this combination you lose what is 
essential to each, namely, the fantastic on the one side, 
and accuracy on the other. The true Fairy Tale should 
be unhampered by any compromise of probability even 
— the scientific representation should be sufficiently 
marvellous along its own lines to need no supernatural 
aid. Both appeal to the imagination in different ways. 

As an exception to this kind of mixture, I should 
quote "The Honey Bee, and Other Stories," translated 
from the Danish of Evald by C. G. Moore Smith. 
There is a certain robustness in these stories dealing 
with the inexorable laws of Nature, though some of 
them will appear hard to the child ; but they will be 
of interest to all teachers. 

Perhaps the worst element in choice of stories is that 
which insists upon the moral detaching itself and 
explaining the story. In " Alice in Wonderland " the 
Duchess says, " ' And the moral of that is : Take care 
of the sense and the sounds will take care of them- 
selves.' ' How fond she is of finding morals in 
things,' thought Alice to herself." (This gives the 
point of view of the child.) 

The following is a case in point, found in a rare old 
print in the British Museum : 

" Jane S. came home with her clothes soiled and 
hands badly torn. ' Where have you been ?' asked 
her mother. ' I fell down the bank near the mill/ 
said Jane, ' and I should have been drowned if Mr. M. 



58 ELEMENTS TO AVOID 

had not seen me and pulled me out.' ' Why did you 
go so near the edge of the brink?' 'There was a 
pretty flower there that I wanted, and I only meant to 
take one step, but I slipped and fell down.' Moral : 
Young people often take but one step in sinful indul- 
gence (Poor Jane !), but they fall into soul-destroying 
sins. There is a sinful pleasure which they wish to 
enjoy. They can do it by a single act of sin (the 
heinous act of picking a flower !). They do it ; but that 
act leads to another, and they fall into the Gulf of 
Perdition, unless God interposes." 

Now, apart from the folly of this story, we must 
condemn it on moral grounds. Could we imagine a 
lower standard of a Deity than that presented here to 
the child ? 

To-day the teacher would commend Jane for a 
laudable interest in botany, but might add a word of 
caution about choosing inclined planes as a hunting- 
ground for specimens and a popular, lucid explanation 
of the inexorable law of gravity. 

Here we have an instance of applying a moral when 
we have finished our story, but there are many stories 
where nothing is left to chance in this matter, and 
where there is no means for the child to use ingenuity 
or imagination in making out the meaning for himself. 

Henry Morley has condemned the use of this 
method as applied to Fairy Stories. He says : 
" Moralising in a Fairy Story is like the snoring of 
Bottom in Titania's lap." 

But I think this applies to all stories, and most 
especially to those by which we do wish to teach 
something. 

John Burroughs says in his article, 1 " Thou shalt 
not preach ' ' : 

1, From "Literary Values,' 5 



MORALISING IN STORIES 59 

" Didactic fiction can never rank high. Thou shalt 
not preach or teach ; though shalt pourtray and create, 

and have ends as universal as nature What Art 

demands is that the Artist's personal convictions and 
notions, his likes and dislikes, do not obtrude them- 
selves at all ; that good and evil stand judged in his 
work by the logic of events, as they do in nature, and 
not by any special pleading on his part. He does not 
hold a brief for either side ; he exemplifies the working 

of the creative energy The great artist works in 

and through and from moral ideas ; his works are 
indirectly a criticism of life. He is moral without 
having a moral. The moment a moral obtrudes itself, 
that moment he begins to fall from grace as an artist. 
.... The great distinction of Art is that it aims to 

see life steadily and to see it whole It affords the 

one point of view whence the world appears 
harmonious and complete." 

It would seem, then, from this passage, that it is of 
moral importance to put things dramatically. 

In Froebel's " Mother Play " he demonstrates the 
educational value of stories, emphasising that their 
highest use consists in their ability to enable the child, 
through suggestion, to form a pure and noble idea of 
what a man may be or do. The sensitiveness of a 
child's mind is offended if the moral is forced upon 
him, but if he absorbs it unconsciously, he has received 
its influence for all time. 

To me the idea of pointing out the moral of the 
story has always seemed as futile as tying a flower on 
to a stalk instead of letting the flower grow out of the 
stalk, as Nature intended. In the first case, the flower, 
showy and bright for the moment, soon fades away. 
In the second instance, it develops slowly, coming to 
perfection in fulness of time because of the life within. 



60 ELEMENTS TO AVOID 

X. Lastly, the element to avoid is that which rouses 
emotions which cannot be translated into action. 

Mr. Earl Barnes, to whom all teachers owe a debt 
of gratitude for the inspiration of his education views, 
insists strongly on this point. The sole effect of such 
stories is to produce a form of hysteria, fortunately 
short-lived, but a waste of force which might be 
directed into a better channel. 1 Such stories are so 
easy to recognise that it would be useless to make a 
formal list, but I shall make further allusion to this in 
dealing with stories from the lives of the saints. 

These, then, are the main elements to avoid in the 
selection of material suitable for normal children. 
Much might be added in the way of detail, and the 
special tendency of the day may make it necessary 
to avoid one class of story more than another; but 
this care belongs to another generation of teachers and 
parents. 

1. A story is told of Confucius, that having attended a funeral 
he presented his horse to the chief mourner. When asked why he 
bestowed this gift, he replied : " I wept with the man, so I feel 
I ought to do something for him." 



CHAPTER V. 

Elements to Seek in Choice of Material. 

In "The Choice of Books" Frederic Harrison has 
said : " The most useful help to reading is to know 
what we shall not read, .... what we shall keep from 
that small cleared spot in the overgrown jungle of 
information which we can call our ordered patch of 
fruit-bearing knowledge." 1 

Now, the same statement applies to our stories, and, 
having busied myself, during the last chapter, with 
" clearing my small spot " by cutting away a mass of 
unfruitful growth, I am now going to suggest what 
would be the best kind of seed to sow in the patch 
which I have " reclaimed from the Jungle." 

Again I repeat that I have no wish to be dogmatic, 
and that in offering suggestions as to the stories to be 
told, I am only catering for a group of normal school- 
children. My list of subjects does not pretend to cover 
the whole ground of children's needs, and just as I 
exclude the abnormal or unusual child from the scope 
of my warning in subjects to avoid, so do I also 
exclude that child from the limitation in choice of 
subjects to be sought, because you can offer almost 
any subject to the unusual child, especially if you stand 
in close relation to him and know his powers of 
apprehension. In this matter, age has very little to 
say : it is a question of the stage of development. 

Experience has taught me that for the group of 

1. Chapter I, page 3. 

61 



6 2 ELEMENTS TO SEEK: 

normal children, almost irrespective of age, the first 
kind of story suitable will contain an appeal to 
conditions to which they are accustomed. The 
reason of this is obvious : the child, having limited 
experience, can only be reached by this experience, 
until his imagination is awakened and he is enabled 
to grasp through this faculty what he has not actually 
passed through. Before this awakening has taken 
place he enters the realm of fiction (represented in the 
story) by comparison with his personal experience. 
Every story and every point in the story mean more 
as that experience widens, and the interest varies, of 
course, with temperament, quickness of perception, 
power of visualising and of concentration. 

In " The Marsh King's Daughter," H. C. Andersen 
says : 

" The Storks have a great many stories which they 
tell their little ones, all about the bogs and marshes. 
They suit them to their age and capacity. The young 
ones are quite satisfied with Kribble, Krabble, or some 
such nonsense, and find it charming; but the elder 
ones want something with more meaning." 

One of the most interesting experiments to be made 
in connection with this subject is to tell the same story 
at intervals of a year or six months to some individual 
child. 1 The different incidents in the story which 
appeal to it (and you must watch it closely, to be sure 
the interest is real, and not artificially stimulated by 
any suggestion on your part) will mark its mental 
development and the gradual awakening of its 
imagination. This experiment is a very delicate one, 
and will not be infallible, because children are secretive 
and the appreciation is often (unconsciously) simulated, 

1. This experiment cannot be made with a group of children, for 
obvious reasons. 



APPEAL TO EXPERIENCE 63 

Or concealed through shyness or want of articulation* 
But it is, in spite of this, a deeply interesting and 
helpful experiment. 

To take a concrete example : let us suppose the story 
of Andersen's Tin Soldier told to a child of five or six 
years. At the first recital, the point which will interest 
the child most will be the setting up of the tin soldiers 
on the table, because he can understand this by means 
of his own experience, in his own nursery : it is an 
appeal to conditions to which he is accustomed and 
for which no exercise of the imagination is needed, 
unless we take the effect of memory to be, according 
to Queyrat, retrospective imagination. 

The next incident that appeals is the unfamiliar 
behaviour of the toys, but still in familiar surround- 
ings; that is to say, the unusual activities are carried 
on in the safe precincts of the nursery — in the usual 
atmosphere of the child. 

I quote from the text : 

" Late in the evening the other soldiers were put in 
their box, and the people of the house went to bed. 
Now was the time for the toys to play ; they amused 
themselves with paying visits, fighting battles and 
giving balls. The tin soldiers rustled about in their 
box, for they wanted to join the games, but they could 
not get the lid off. The nut-crackers turned somer- 
saults, and the pencil scribbled nonsense on the slate." 

Now, from this point onwards in the story, the events 
will be quite outside the personal experience of the 
child, and there will have to be a real stretch of 
imagination to appreciate the thrilling and blood- 
curdling adventures of the little tin soldier, namely, the 
terrible sailing down the gutter under the bridge, the 
meeting with the fierce rat who demands the soldier's 
passport, the horrible sensation in the fish's body, etc. 



64 ELEMENTS TO SEEK 

Last of all, perhaps, will come the appreciation of the 
best qualities of the hero : his modesty, his dignity, his 
reticence, his courage and his constancy : he seems to 
combine all the qualities of the best soldier with those 
of the best civilian, without the more obvious qualities 
which generally attract first. As for the love-story, we 
must not expect any child to see its tenderness and 
beauty, though the individual child may intuitively 
appreciate these qualities, but it is not what we wish 
for or work for at this period of child-life. 

This method could be applied to various stories. I 
have chosen the Tin Soldier because of its dramatic 
qualities and because it is marked off (probably quite 
unconsciously on the part of Andersen) into periods 
which correspond to the child's development. 

In Eugene Field's exquisite little poem of " The 
Dinkey Bird " we find the objects familiar to the child 
in unusual places, so that some imagination is needed 
to realise that " big red sugar-plums are clinging to 
the cliffs beside that sea " ; but the introduction of the 
fantastic bird and the soothing sound of the Amfalula 
Tree are new and delightful sensations, quite out of 
the child's personal experience. 

Another such instance is to be found in Mrs. W. K. 
Clifford's story of Master Willie. The abnormal 
behaviour of familiar objects, such as a doll, leads 
from the ordinary routine to the paths of adventure. 
This story is to be found in a little book called " Very 
Short Stories," a most interesting collection for 
teachers and children. 

We now come to the second element we should seek 
in material — namely, the element of the unusual, which 
we have already anticipated in the story of the Tin 
Soldier. 

This element is necessary in response to the demand 



THE ' UNUSUAL ' ELEMENT 65 

of the child who expressed the needs of his fellow- 
playmates when he said : ■" I want to go to the place 
where the shadows are real." This is the true defini- 
tion of " Faerie " lands, and is the first sign of real 
mental development in the child when he is no longer 
content with the stories of his own little deeds and 
experiences, when his ear begins to appreciate sounds 
different from the words in his own everyday language, 
and when he begins to separate his own personality 
from the action of the story. 

George Goschen says x : 

" What I want for the young are books and stories 
which do not simply deal with our daily life. I like 
the fancy (even) of little children to have some larger 
food than images of their own little lives, and I confess 
I am sorry for the children whose imaginations are not 
sometimes stimulated by beautiful Fairy Tales which 
carry them to worlds different from those in which 

their future will be passed I hold that what 

removes them more or less from their daily life is 
better than what reminds them of it at every step." 

It is because of the great value of leading children to 
something beyond the limited circle of their own lives 
that I deplore the twaddling boarding-school stories 
written for girls and the artificially-prepared Public 
School stories for boys. Why not give them the 
dramatic interest of a larger stage ? No account of a 
cricket match, or a football triumph, could present a 
finer appeal to boys and girls than the description of 
the Peacestead in the " Heroes of Asgaard " : 

" This was the playground of the ^Esir, where they 
practised trials of skill one with another and held 
tournaments and sham fights. These last were always 
conducted in the gentlest and most honourable 

1. From an address on the "Cultivation of the Imagination." 



66 ELEMENTS TO SEEK 

manner ; for the strongest law of the Peacestead was, 
that no angry blow should be struck, or spiteful word 
spoken upon the sacred field." 

For my part, I would unhesitatingly give to boys 
and girls an element of strong romance in the stories 
which are told them even before they are twelve. 
Miss Sewell says : 

" The system that keeps girls in the schoolroom 
reading simple stories, without reading Scott and 
Shakespeare and Spenser, and then hands them over 
to the unexplored recesses of the Circulating Library, 
has been shown to be the most frivolizing that can be 
devised." She sets forward the result of her experi- 
ence that a good novel, especially a romantic one, read 
at twelve or fourteen, is really a beneficial thing. 

At present many of the children from the elementary 
schools get their first idea of love (if one can give it 
such a name) from vulgar pictures displayed in the 
shop windows, or jokes on marriage culled from the 
lowest type of paper, or the proceedings of a divorce- 
court. 

What an antidote to such representation might be 
found in the story of 

Hector and Andromache, 

Siegfreid and Brunhild, 

Dido and ^Eneas, 

Orpheus and Eurydice, 

St. Francis and St. Clare. 
One of the strongest elements we should introduce 
into our stories for children of all ages is that which 
calls forth love of beauty. And the beauty should 
stand out, not necessarily only in delineation of noble 
qualities in our heroes and heroines, but in beauty and 
strength of language and form. 

In this latter respect the Bible stories are of such 



THE NEED FOR ROMANCE 67 

inestimable value — all the greater because a child is 
familiar with the subject, and the stories gain fresh 
significance from the spoken or winged word as 
compared with the mere reading. Whether we should 
keep to the actual text is a matter of individual 
experience. Professor R. G. Moulton, whose interpre- 
tations of the Bible Stories are so well known both in 
England and the States, does not always confine 
himself to the actual text, but draws the dramatic 
elements together, rejecting what seems to him to 
break the narrative, but introducing the actual 
language where it is the most effective. Those who 
have heard him will realise the success of his method. 

There is one Bible story which can be told with 
scarcely any deviation, and that is the story oT 
Nebuchadnezzar and the Golden Image. Thus, I 
think it wise, if the children are to succeed in partially 
visualizing the story, that they should have some idea 
of the dimensions of the Golden Image as it would 
stand out in a vast plain. It might be well to compare 
those dimensions with some building with which the 
child is familiar. In London the matter is easy, as the 
height will compare, roughly speaking, with that of 
Westminster Abbey. The only change in the text I 
should adopt is to avoid the constant enumeration of 
the list of rulers and the musical instruments. In 
doing this, I am aware that I am sacrificing something 
of beauty in the rhythm, — on the other hand, for 
narrative purpose, the interest is not broken. The first 
time the announcement is made, that is, by the Herald, 
it should be in a perfectly loud, clear and toneless 
voice, such as you would naturally use when shouting 
through a trumpet to a vast concourse of people 
scattered over a wide plain ; reserving all the dramatic 
tone of voice for the passage where Nebuchadnezzar is 



68 ELEMENTS TO SEEK 

making the announcement to the three men by them- 
selves. I can remember Professor Moulton saying 
that all the dramatic interest of the story is summed 
up in the words " But if Not. ..." This suggestion is 
a very helpful one, for it enables us to work up 
gradually to this point, and then, as it were, unwind, 
until we reach the words of Nebuchadnezzar's 
dramatic recantation. 

In this connection, it is a good plan occasionally 
during the story hour to introduce really good poetry 
which, delivered in a dramatic manner (far removed, 
of course, from the melodramatic), might give children 
their first love of beautiful form in verse. And I do 
not think it necessary to wait for this. Even the 
normal child of seven (though there is nothing 
arbitrary in the suggestion of this age) will appreciate 
the effect — if only on the ear — of beautiful lines well 
spoken. Mahomet has said, in his teaching advice : 
" Teach your children poetry : it opens the mind, 
lends grace to wisdom and makes heroic virtues 
hereditary." 

To begin with the youngest children of all, here 
is a poem which contains a thread of story, just enough 
to give a human interest : 



MILKING-TIME. 

When the cows come home, the milk is coming, 

Honey's made when the bees are humming. 

Duck, Drake on the rushy lake, 

And the deer live safe in the breezy brake, 

And timid, funny, pert little bunny 

Winks his nose, and sits all sunny. 

Christina Rossetti. 

Now, in comparing this poem with some of the 



THE VALUE OF GOOD POETRY 69 

doggerel verse offered to small children, one is struck 
with the literary superiority in the choice of words. 
Here, in spite of the simplicity of the poem, there is 
not the ordinary limited vocabulary, nor the forced 
rhyme, nor the application of a moral, by which the 
artist falls from grace. 

Again, in Eugene Field's "Hushaby Lady," the 
language of which is most simple, the child is carried 
away by the beauty of the sound. 

I remember hearing some poetry repeated by the 
children in one of the elementary schools in Sheffield 
which made me feel that they had realised romantic 
possibilities which would prevent their lives from ever 
becoming quite prosaic again, and I wish that this 
practice were more usual. There is little difficulty 
with the children. I can remember, in my own experi- 
ence as a teacher in London, making the experiment of 
reading or repeating passages from Milton and 
Shakespeare to children from nine to eleven years of 
age, and the enthusiastic way they responded by learn- 
ing those passages by heart. I have taken, with 
several sets of children, such passages from Milton as 
"Echo Song," "Sabrina," "By the rushy fringed 
Bank," " Back, shepherds, back," from Comus, 
"May Morning," "Ode to Shakespeare," "Samson 
on his blindness," etc. I even ventured on several 
passages from Paradise Lost, and found " Now came 
still evening on " a particular favourite with the 
children. 

It seemed even easier to interest them in Shake- 
speare, and they learned quite readily and easily many 
passages from "As You Like It," "Merchant of 
Venice," "Julius Cassar " ; from "Richard II," 
" Henry IV," and " Henry V." 

The method I should recommend in the introduction 



7 o ELEMENTS TO SEEK 

of both poets occasionally into the Story-hour would 
be threefold. 

First, to choose passages which appeal for beauty of 
sound or beauty of mental vision called up by those 
sounds: such as, " Tell me where is Fancy bred," 
Titania's Lullaby, " How sweet the moonlight sleeps 
upon this bank." 

Secondly, passages for sheer interest of content, such 
as the Trial Scene from " The Merchant of Venice," 
or the Forest Scene in " As You Like It." 

Thirdly, for dramatic and historical interest, such 
as, " Men at some time are masters of their fates," the 
whole of Mark Antony's speech, and the scene with 
Imogen and her foster-brothers in the Forest. 

It may not be wholly out of place to add here that 
the children learned and repeated these passages 
themselves, and that I offered them the same advice as 
I do to all Story-tellers. I discussed quite openly with 
them the method I considered best, trying to make 
them see that simplicity of delivery was not only the 
most beautiful but the most effective means to use; 
and, by the end of a few months, when they had been 
allowed to experiment and express themselves, they 
began to see that mere ranting was not force, and that 
a sense of reserve power is infinitely more impressive 
and inspiring than mere external presentation. 

I encouraged them to criticise each other for the 
common good, and sometimes I read a few lines with 
over-emphasis and too much gesture, which they were 
at liberty to point out, so that they might avoid the 
same error. 

A very good collection of poems for this purpose 
of narrative is to be found in : 

Mrs. P. A. Barnett's series of Song and Story, 

Published by A. and C. Black. 



COMMON SENSE AND RESOURCEFULNESS 7* 
And for older children : 

The Call of the Homeland, Anthology. 

Edited by Dr. Scott and Miss Katharine Wallas, 
Published by Blackie and Son. 

Also in a collection published (I believe) in Boston by 
Miss Agnes Repplier. 

Golden Numbers. 

(K. D. Wiggin and N. A. Smith). 

It will be realised from the scanty number of 
examples offered in this section that it is only a side 
issue, a mere suggestion of an occasional alternative 
for the Story-hour, as likely to develop the imagination. 

I think it is well to have a good number of stories 
illustrating the importance of common sense and 
resourcefulness. For this reason I consider that stories 
treating of the ultimate success of the youngest son 
are very admirable for the purpose, because the 
youngest child, who begins by being considered 
inferior to the elder ones, triumphs in the end, either 
from resourcefulness, or from common sense, or from 
some high quality, such as kindness to animals, 
courage in overcoming difficulties, etc. 1 

Thus we have the story of Cinderella. The cynic 
might imagine that it was the diminutive size of her 
foot that ensured her success : the child does not realise 
any advantage in this, but, though the matter need not 
be pressed, the story leaves us with the impression that 
Cinderella had been patient and industrious, forbearing 
with her sisters. We know that she was strictly 
obedient to her godmother, and in order to be this she 

1. " The House in the Wood " (Grimm) is a good instance of 
triumph for the youngest child, 
F 



72 ELEMENTS TO SEEK 

makes her dramatic exit from the ball which is the 
beginning of her triumph. There are many who 
might say that these qualities do not meet with 
reward in life and that they end in establishing a habit 
of drudgery, but, after all, we must have poetic justice 
in a Fairy Story, occasionally, at any rate. 

Another such story is " Jesper and the Hares." 
Here, however, it is not at first resourcefulness that 
helps the hero, but sheer kindness of heart, which 
prompts him first to help the ants, and then to show 
civility to the old woman, without for a moment 
expecting any material benefit from such actions. At 
the end, he does win by his own ingenuity and 
resourcefulness, and if we regret that his trickery has 
such wonderful results, we must remember that the 
aim was to win the princess for herself, and that there 
was little choice left him. I consider the end of this 
story to be one of the most remarkable I have found 
in my long years of browsing among Fairy Tales. I 
should suggest stopping at the words : " The Tub is 
full," as any addition seems to destroy the subtlety of 
the story. 1 

Another story of this kind, admirable for children 
from six years and upwards, is " What the Old Man 
does is alway Right." Here, perhaps, the entire lack 
of common sense on the part of the hero would serve 
rather as a warning than a stimulating example, but 
the conduct of the wife in excusing the errors of her 
foolish husband is a model of resourcefulness. 

In the story of " Hereafter — this " 2 we have just the 
converse : a perfectly foolish wife shielded by a most 
patient and forbearing husband, whose tolerance and 
common sense save the situation. 

1. To be found in Andrew Lang's Collection. See list of Stories. 
%. To be found in Jacob's " More English Tales," 



DEVELOPING A SENSE OF HUMOUR 73 

One of the most important elements to seek in our 
choice of stories is that which tends to develop, even- 
tually, a fine sense of humour in a child. I purposely 
use the word "eventually," because I realise first that 
humour has various stages, and that seldom, if ever, 
can you expect an appreciation of fine humour from a 
normal child, that is, from an elemental mind. It 
seems as if the rough-and-tumble element were almost 
a necessary stage through which children must pass — 
a stage, moreover, which is normal and healthy ; but up 
to now we have quite unnecessarily extended the period 
of elephantine fun, and though we cannot control the 
manner in which children are catered for along this 
line in their homes, we can restrict the folly of 
appealing too strongly or too long to this elemental 
faculty in our schools. Of course, the temptation is 
strong, because the appeal is so easy. But there is a 
tacit recognition that horse-play and practical jokes 
are no longer considered an essential part of a 
child's education. We note this in the changed attitude 
in the schools, taken by more advanced educationists, 
towards bullying, fagging, hazing, etc. As a reaction, 
then, from more obvious fun, there should be a certain 
number of stories which make appeal to a more subtle 
element, and in the chapter on the questions put to me 
by teachers on various occasions, I speak more in 
detail about the educational value of a finer humour in 
our stories. 

At some period there ought to be presented in our 
stories the superstitions connected with the primitive 
history of the race, dealing with the Fairy (proper), 
giants, dwarfs, gnomes, nixies, brownies and other 
elemental beings. Andrew Lang says : " Without our 
savage ancestors we should have had no poetry. 
Conceive the human race born into the world in its 



74 ELEMENTS TO SEEK 

present advanced condition, weighing, analysing, 
examining everything. Such a race would have been 
destitute of poetry and flattened by common sense. 
Barbarians did the dreaming of the world." 

But it is a question of much debate among educa- 
tionists what should be the period of the child's 
life in which these stories are to be presented. I 
myself was formerly of opinion that they belonged to 
the very primitive age of the individual, just as they 
belong to the primitive age of the race, but experience 
in telling stories has taught me to compromise. 

Some people maintain that little children, who take 
things with brutal logic, ought not to be allowed the 
Fairy Tale in its more limited form of the Super- 
natural ; whereas, if presented to older children, this 
material can be criticised, catalogued and (alas !) 
rejected as worthless, or retained with flippant tolera- 
tion. 

Now, whilst recognising a certain value in this point 
of view, I am bound to admit that if we regulate our 
stories entirely on this basis, we lose the real value of 
the Fairy Tale element — it is the one element which 
causes little children to wonder, simply because no 
scientific analysis of the story can be presented to 
them. It is somewhat heartrending to feel that Jack 
and the Bean-Stalk and stories of that ilk are to be 
handed over to the critical youth who will condemn 
the quick growth of the tree as being contrary to the 
order of nature, and wonder why Jack was not playing 
football in the school team instead of climbing trees 
in search of imaginary adventures. 

A wonderful plea for the telling of early superstitions 
to children is to be found in an old Indian Allegory 
called "The Blazing Mansion." 

" An old man owned a large, rambling mansion — 



am 



THE RIGHT AGE FOR FAIRY TALES 75 

the pillars were rotten, the galleries tumbling down, 
the thatch dry and combustible, and there was only one 
door. Suddenly, one day, there was a smell of fire : 
the old man rushed out. To his horror he saw that 
the thatch was aflame, the rotten pillars were catching 
fire one by one, and the rafters were burning like 
tinder. But inside, the children went on amusing 
themselves quite happily. The distracted father said : 
' I will run in and save my children. I will seize them 
in my strong arms, I will bear them harmless through 
the falling rafters and the blazing beams.' Then the 
sad thought came to him that the children were romp- 
ing and ignorant. ' If I say the house is on fire, they 
will not understand me. If I try to seize them, they 
will romp about and try to escape. Alas ! not a 
moment to be lost!' Suddenly a bright thought 
flashed across the old man's mind. ' My children are 
ignorant,' he said; 'they love toys and glittering 
playthings. I will promise them playthings of 
unheard-of beauty. Then they will listen.' 

"So the old man shouted : ' Children, come out of 
the house and see these beautiful toys ! Chariots with 
white oxen, all gold and tinsel. See these exquisite 
little antelopes. Whoever saw such goats as these ? 
Children, children, come quickly, or they will all be 
gone !' 

" Forth from the blazing ruin the children came in 
hot haste. The word ' plaything ' was almost the only 
word they could understand. 

" Then the Father, rejoiced that his offspring was 
freed from peril, procured for them one of the most 
beautiful chariots ever seen : the chariot had a canopy 
like a pagoda : it had tiny rails and balustrades and 
rows of jingling bells. Milk-white oxen drew the 



76 ELEMENTS TO SEEK 

chariot. The children were astonished when they were 
placed inside." 

(From the " Thabagata") 

Perhaps, as a compromise, one might give the 
gentler superstitions to very small children, and leave 
such a blood-curdling story as Bluebeard to a more 
robust age. 

There is one modern method which has always 
seemed to me much to be condemned, and that is the 
habit of changing the end of a story, for fear of 
alarming the child. This is quite indefensible. In 
doing this we are tampering with folk-lore and con- 
fusing stages of development. 

Now, I know that there are individual children that, 
at a tender age, might be alarmed at such a story, for 
instance, as Little Red Riding-Hood ; in which case, it 
is better to sacrifice the " wonder stage " and present 
the story later on. 

I live in dread of finding one day a bowdlerized form 
of " Bluebeard " (prepared for a junior standard), in 
which, to produce a satisfactory finale, all the wives 
come to life again, and " live happily for ever after " 
with Bluebeard and each other ! 

And from this point it seems an easy transition to 
the subject of legends of different kinds. Some of the 
old country legends in connection with flowers are 
very charming for children, and as long as we do not 
tread on the sacred ground of the Nature Students, we 
may indulge in a moderate use of such stories, of which 
a few will be found in the Story Lists. 

With regard to the introduction of legends connected 
with saints into the school curriculum, my chief plea is 
the element of the unusual which they contain, and 
an appeal to a sense of mysticism and wonder which 



MIRACLES AND CONVERSIONS 77 

is a wise antidote to the prosaic and commercial 
tendencies of to-day. Though many of the actions of 
the saints may be the result of a morbid strain of self- 
sacrifice, at least none of them were engaged in the sole 
occupation of becoming rich : their ideals were often 
lofty and unselfish ; their courage high, and their deeds 
noble. We must be careful, in the choice of our 
legends, to show up the virile qualities rather than to 
dwell on the elements of horror in details of 
martyrdom, or on the too-constantly recurring 
miracles, lest we should defeat our own ends. For the 
children might think lightly of the dangers to which 
the saints were exposed if they find them too often 
preserved at the last moment from the punishment 
they were brave enough to undergo. For one or other 
of these reasons, I should avoid the detailed history of 
St. Juliana, St. Vincent, St. Quintin, St. Eustace, St. 
Winifred, St. Theodore, St. James the More, St. 
Katharine, St. Cuthbert, St. Alphage, St. Peter of 
Milan, St. Quirine and Juliet, St. Alban and others. 

The danger of telling children stories connected with 
sudden conversions is that they are apt to place too 
much emphasis on the process, rather than the goal to 
be reached. We should always insist on the splendid 
deeds performed after a real conversion — not the details 
of the conversion itself ; as, for instance, the beautiful 
and poetical work done by St. Christopher when he 
realised what work he could do most effectively. 

On the other hand, there are many stories of the 
saints dealing with actions and motives which would 
appeal to the imagination and are not only worthy of 
imitation, but are not wholly outside the life and 
experience even of the child. 1 

1. For selection of suitable stories among legends of the Saints, 
see Story Lists. 



78 ELEMENTS TO SEEK 

Having protested against the elephantine joke and 
the too-frequent use of exaggerated fun, I now en- 
deavour to restore the balance by suggesting the intro- 
duction into the school curriculum of a few purely 
grotesque stories which serve as an antidote to senti- 
mentality or utilitarianism. But they must be presented 
as nonsense, so that the children may use them for 
what they are intended, as pure relaxation. Such a 
story is that of " The Wolf and the Kids." I 
have had serious objections offered to this story by 
several educational people, because of the revenge 
taken by the goat on the wolf, but I am inclined to 
think that if the story is to be taken as anything but 
sheer nonsense, it is surely sentimental to extend our 
sympathy towards a caller who has devoured six of his 
hostess' children. With regard to the wolf being cut 
open, there is not the slightest need to accentuate the 
physical side. Children accept the deed as they accept 
the cutting off of a giant's head, because they do not 
associate it with pain, especially if the deed is presented 
half-humorously. The moment in the story where 
their sympathy is aroused is the swallowing of the 
kids, because the children do realise the possibility of 
being disposed of in the mother's absence. (Needless 
to say, I never point out the moral of the kids' 
disobedience to the mother in opening the door.) I 
have always noticed a moment of breathlessness even 
in a grown-up audience when the wolf swallows the 
kids, and that the recovery of them " all safe and 
sound, all huddled together " is quite as much appre- 
ciated by the adult audience as by the children, and is 
worth the tremor caused by the wolf's summary action. 
I have not always been able to impress upon the 
teachers that this story must be taken lightly. A very 
earnest young student came to me once after I had 



A PLEA FOR NONSENSE 79 

told it, and said in an awestruck voice : " Do you 
Correlate?" Having recovered from the effect of 
this word, which she carefully explained, 1 said that 
as a rule I preferred to keep the story apart from 
the other lessons, just an undivided whole, because it 
had effects of its own which were best brought about 
by not being connected with other lessons. 1 She 
frowned her disapproval and said : "I am sorry, 
because I thought I would take The Goat for my Nature 
Study lesson, and then tell your story at the end." I 
thought of the terrible struggle in the child's mind 
between his conscientious wish to be accurate and his 
dramatic enjoyment of the abnormal habits of a goat 
who went out with scissors, needle and thread ; but I 
have been most careful since to repudiate any connec- 
tion with Nature Study in this and a few other stories 
in my repertoire. 

One might occasionally introduce one of Edward 
Lear's "Book of Nonsense." For instance: 

There was an Old Man of Cape Horn, 
Who wished he had never been born; 
So he sat in a chair till he died of despair, 
That dolorous Man of Cape Horn. 

Now, except in case of very young children, this 
could not possibly be taken seriously. The least 
observant normal boy or girl would recognise the 
hollowness of the pessimism that prevents a man from 
at least an attempt to rise from his chair. 

The following I have chosen as repeated with 

1. I believe that I am quite in a minority among Educationists 
in this matter. Possibly my constantly specialising in the stories 
may have formed my opinion. 



80 ELEMENTS TO SEEK 

intense appreciation and much dramatic vigour by a 
little boy just five years old : 

There was an Old Man who said, " Hush! 

I perceive a young bird in this bush!" 

When they said, " Is it small ?" he replied, "Not at all ! 

It is four times as big as the bush !"'i 

One of the most desirable of all elements to 
introduce into our stories is that which encourages 
kinship with animals. With very young children this 
is easy, because in those early years when the mind 
is not clogged with knowledge, the sympathetic 
imagination enables them to enter into the feelings of 
animals. Andersen has an illustration of this point in 
his " Ice Maiden " : 

" Children who cannot talk yet can understand the 
language of fowls and ducks quite well, and cats and 
dogs speak to them quite as plainly as Father and 
Mother ; but that is only when the children are very 
small, and then even Grandpapa's stick will become a 
perfect horse to them that can neigh and, in their eyes, 
is furnished with legs and a tail. With some children 
this period ends later than with others, and of such we 
are accustomed to say that they are very backward, 
and that they have remained children for a long time. 
People are in the habit of saying strange things." 

Felix Adler says : " Perhaps the chief attraction of 
Fairy Tales is due to their representing the child as 
living in brotherly friendship with nature and all 
creatures. Trees, flowers, animals, wild and tame, even 
the stars are represented as comrades of children. That 
animals are only human beings in disguise is an axiom 
in the Fairy Tales. Animals are humanised, that is, 

1. These words have been set most effectively to music by Miss 
Margaret Ruthven Lang. (Boston.) 



KINSHIP WITH ANIMALS 81 

the kinship between animal and human life is still 
keenly felt; and this reminds us of those early 
animistic interpretations of nature which subsequently 
led to doctrines of metempsychosis." x 

I think that beyond question the finest animal stories 
are to be found in the Indian Collections, of which I 
furnish a list in the Appendix. 

With regard to the development of the love of nature 
through the telling of the stories, we are confronted 
with a great difficult in the elementary schools, because 
so many of the children have never been out of the 
towns, have never seen a daisy, a blade of grass and 
scarcely a tree, so that in giving, in form of a story, 
a beautiful description of scenery, you can make no 
appeal to the retrospective imagination, and only the 
rarely gifted child will be able to make pictures whilst 
listening to a style which is beyond his everyday use. 
Nevertheless, once in a way, when the children are in 
a quiet mood, not eager for action but able to give 
themselves up to the pure joy of sound, then it is 
possible to give them a beautiful piece of writing in 
praise of Nature, such as the following, taken from 
The Divine Adventure, by Fiona Macleod : 

" Then he remembered the ancient wisdom of the 
Gael and came out of the Forest Chapel and went into 
the woods. He put his lip to the earth, and lifted a 
green leaf to his brow, and held a branch to his ear, 
and because he was no longer heavy with the sweet 
clay of mortality, though yet of human clan he heard 
that which we do not hear, and saw that which we do 
not see, and knew that which we do not know. All the 
green life was his. In that new world, he saw the lives 

1. From " Moral Instruction of Children," page 66. " The Use of 

Fairy Tales." 



82 ELEMENTS TO SEEK 

of trees, now pale green, now of woodsmoke blue, now 
of amethyst ; the gray lives of stone ; breaths of the 
grass and reed, creatures of the air, delicate and wild 
as fawns, or swift and fierce and terrible, tigers, of that 
undiscovered wilderness, with birds almost invisible 
but for their luminous wings, and opalescent crests." 

The value of this particular passage is the mystery 
pervading the whole picture, which forms so beautiful 
an antidote to the eternal explaining of things. I 
think it of the highest importance for children to realise 
that the best and most beautiful things cannot be 
expressed in everyday language and that they must 
content themselves with a flash here and there of the 
beauty which may come later. One does not enhance 
the beauty of the mountain by pulling to pieces some 
of the earthy clogs : one does not increase the impres- 
sion of a vast ocean by analysing the single drops of 
water. But at a reverent distance one gets a clear 
impression of the whole, and can afford to leave the 
details in the shadow. 

In presenting such passages (and it must be done 
very sparingly) experience has taught me that we 
should take the children into our confidence by telling 
them frankly that nothing exciting is going to happen, 
so that they will be free to listen to the mere words. 
A very interesting experiment might occasionally be 
made by asking the children some weeks afterwards to 
tell you in their own words what pictures were made on 
their minds. This is a very different thing from 
allowing the children to reproduce the passage at once, 
the danger of which proceeding I speak of later in 
detail. (See Chapter on Questions.) 

We now come to the question as to what proportion 
of Dramatic Excitement we should present in the 
stories for a normal group of children. Personally, I 



DRAMATIC EXCITEMENT 83 

should like, while the child is very young (I mean in 
mind, not in years) to exclude the element of dramatic 
excitement, but though this may be possible for the 
individual child, it is quite Utopian to hope we can 
keep the average child free from what is in the atmo- 
sphere. Children crave for excitement, and unless we 
give it to them in legitimate form, they will take it in 
any riotous form it presents itself, and if from our 
experience we can control their mental digestion by a 
moderate supply of what they demand, we may save 
them from devouring too eagerly the raw material they 
can so easily find for themselves. 

There is a humorous passage bearing on this 
question in the story of the small Scotch boy, when he 
asks leave of his parents to present the pious little 
book — a gift to himself from his Aunt — to a little sick 
friend, hoping probably that the friend's chastened 
condition will make him more lenient towards this 
mawkish form of literature. The parents expostulate, 
pointing out to their son how ungrateful he is, and how 
ungracious it would be to part with his Aunt's gift. 
Then the boy can contain himself no longer. He 
bursts out, unconsciously expressing the normal 
attitude of children at a certain stage of development : 
" It's a daft book ony way ; there's naebody gets kilt 
en't. I like stories about folk getting their heids cut 
off, or stabbit through and through, wi' swords an' 
spears. An' there's nae wile beasts. I like stories 
about black men gettin' ate up, an' white men killin' 
lions and tigers an' bears an' " 

Then, again, we have the passage from George 
Eliot's "Mill on the Floss": 

" Oh, dear ! I wish they would not fight at your 
school, Tom. Didn't it hurt you ?" 

" Hurt me? No," said Tom, putting up the hooks 



84 ELEMENTS TO SEEK 

again, taking out a large pocket-knife, and slowly 
opening the largest blade, which he looked at medita- 
tively as he rubbed his finger along it. Then he 
added : 

" I gave Spooner a black eye — that's what he got 
for wanting to leather me. I wasn't going to go halves 
because anybody leathered me." 

" Oh ! how brave you are, Tom. I think you are 
like Samson. If there came a lion roaring at me, I 
think you'd fight him, wouldn't you, Tom ?" 

" How can a lion come roaring at you, you silly 
thing? There's no lions only in the shows." 

" No, but if we were in the lion countries — I mean 
in Africa where it's very hot, the lions eat people there. 
I can show it you in the book where I read it." 

" Well, I should get a gun and shoot him." 

" But if you hadn't got a gun? — we might have 
gone out, you know, not thinking, just as we go out 
fishing, and then a great lion might come towards us 
roaring, and we could not get away from him. What 
should you do, Tom?" 

Tom paused, and at last turned away contemp- 
tuously, saying : " But the lion isn't coming. What's 
the use of talking?" 

This passage illustrates also the difference between 
the highly-developed imagination of the one and the 
stodgy prosaical temperament of the other. Tom could 
enter into the elementary question of giving his school- 
fellow a black eye, but could not possibly enter into 
the drama of the imaginary arrival of a lion. He was 
sorely in need of Fairy Stories. 

It is for this element we have to cater, and we 
cannot shirk our responsibilities. 

William James says : " Living things, moving 
things or things that savour of danger or blood, that 



WARLIKE EXCITEMENT NOT ESvSENTIAL 85 

have a dramatic quality, these are the things natively 
interesting to childhood, to the exclusion of almost 
everything- else, and the teacher of young children 
(until more artificial interests have grown up) will keep 
in touch with his pupils by constant appeal to such 
matters as those." x 

Of course the savour of danger and blood is only 
one of the things to which we should appeal, but I 
give the whole passage to make the point clearer. 

This is one of the most difficult parts of our selection, 
namely, how to present enough excitement for the 
child and yet include enough constructive element 
which will satisfy him when the thirst for 
" blugginess " is slaked. 

And here I should like to say that, whilst wishing 
to encourage in children great admiration and rever- 
ence for the courage and other fine qualities which 
have been displayed in times of war, and which have 
mitigated its horrors, I think we should show that 
some of the finest moments in these heroes' lives had 
nothing to do with their profession as soldiers. Thus 
we have the well-known story of Sir Philip Sidney and 
the soldier; the wonderful scene where Roland drags 
the bodies of his dead friends to receive the blessing 
of the archbishop after the battle of Roncevalles 2 ; and 
of Napoleon sending the sailor back to England. 
There is a moment in the story of Gunnar when he 
pauses in the midst of the slaughter of his enemies, 
and says, " I wonder if I am less brave than others, 
because I kill men less willingly than they." 

And in the " Njal's Burning " from Andrew Lang's 
" Book of Romance " we have the words of the boy 

1. From " Talks to Teachers," page 93. 

2. An excellent account of this is to be found in " The Song of 
Roland," by Arthur Way and Frederic Spender, 



86 ELEMENTS TO SEEK 

Thord when his grandmother, Bergthora, urges him 
to go out of the burning house. 

" ' You promised me when I was little, grandmother, 
that I never should go from you till I wished it of 
myself. And I would rather die with you than live 
after you." 

Here the moral courage is so splendidly shown ; 
none of these heroes feared to die in battle or in open 
single fight, but to face a death by fire for higher 
considerations is a point of view worth presenting to 
the child. 

In spite of all the dramatic excitement roused by 
the conduct of our soldiers and sailors, 1 should we not 
try to offer also in our stories the romance and excite- 
ment of saving as w T ell as taking life ? 

I would have quite a collection dealing with the 
thrilling adventures of the Life-Boat and the Fire 
Brigade, of which I hope to present examples in the 
final Story List. 

Finally, we ought to include a certain number of ' 
stories dealing with Death, especially with children 
who are of an age to realise that it must come to all, 
and that this is not a calamity but a perfectly natural 
and simple thing. At present the child in the street 
invariably connects death with sordid accidents. I 
think they should have stories of Death coming in 
heroic form, as when a man or woman dies for a 
great cause, in which he has opportunity of admiring 
courage, devotion and unselfishness; or of Death 
coming as a result of treachery, such as we find in 
the death of Baldur, of Siegfried, and of others, 
so that children may learn to abhor such deeds; but 
also a fair proportion of stories dealing with death that 

This passage was written before the Great War, 



STORIES DEALING WITH DEATH 87 

comes naturally,, when our work is done and our 
strength gone, which has no more tragedy than the 
falling of a leaf from the tree. In this way we can 
give children the first idea that the individual is so 
much less than the whole. 

Quite small children often take Death very naturally. 
A boy of five met two of his older companions at the 
school door. They said sadly and solemnly : " We 
have just seen a dead man !" st Well," said the little 
philosopher, " that's all right. We've all got to die 
when our work's done." 

In one of the Buddha stories which I reproduce at 
the end of this book, the little Hare (who is, I think, a 
symbol of nervous Individualism) constantly says : 
" Suppose the Earth were to fall in, what would 
become of me?" 

As an antidote to the ordinary attitude towards 
death, I commend an episode from a German folk-lore 
story called "Unlucky John," which is included in 
the list of stories recommended at the end of this 
book. 

The following sums up in poetic form some of the 
material necessary for the wants of a child : 

THE CHILD. 

The little new soul has come to Earth, 
He has taken his staff for the Pilgrim's way. 

His sandals are girt on his tender feet, 
And he carries his scrip for what gifts he may. 

What will you give to him, Fate Divine? 

What for his scrip on the winding road? 
A crown for his head, or a laurel wreath ? 

A sword to wield, or is gold his load ? 



88 ELEMENTS TO SEEK 

What will you give him for weal or woe? 

What for the journey through day and night? 
Give or withhold from him power and fame, 

But give to him love of the earth's delight. 

Let him be lover of wind and sun 
And of falling rain ; and the friend of trees ; 

With a singing heart for the pride of noon, 
And a tender heart for what twilight sees. 

Let him be lover of you and yours — 
The Child and Mary; but also Pan, 

And the sylvan gods of the woods and hills, 
And the god that is hid in his fellow-man. 

Love and a song and the joy of earth, 
These be the gifts for his scrip to keep 

Till, the journey ended, he stands at last 
In the gathering dark, at the gate of sleep. 

Ethel Clifford. 

And so our stories should contain all the essentials 
for the child's scrip on the road of life, providing the 
essentials and holding or withholding the non- 
essentials. But, above all, let us fill the scrip with 
gifts that the child need never reject, even when he 
passes through " the gate of sleep." 



CHAPTER VI. 

How to Obtain and Maintain the Effect of the 
Story. 
We are now coming to the most important part of the 
question of Story-Telling, to which all the foregoing 
remarks have been gradually leading, and that is 
the Effects of these stories upon the child, apart 
from the dramatic joy he experiences in listening to 
them, which would in itself be quite enough to justify 
us in the telling. But, since I have urged upon 
teachers the extreme importance of giving so much 
time to the manner of telling and of bestowing so 
much care on the selection of the material, it is right 
that they should expect some permanent results, or 
else those who are not satisfied with the mere enjoy- 
ment of the children will seek other methods of appeal 
— and it is to them that I most specially dedicate this 
chapter. 

I think we are on the threshold of the re-discovery 
of an old truth, that the Dramatic Presentation is the 
quickest and surest, because it is the only one with 
which memory plays no tricks. If a thing has 
appeared before us in a vital form, nothing can really 
destroy it; it is because things are often given in a 
blurred, faint light that they gradually fade out of our 
memory. A very keen scientist was deploring to me, 
on one occasion, the fact that stories were told so much 
in the schools, to the detriment of science, for which 
she claimed the same indestructible element that I 

89 



go EFFECT OF THE STORY 

recognise in the best-told stories. Being very much 
interested in her point of view, I asked her to tell 
me, looking back on her school days, what she could 
remember as standing out from other less clear 
information. After thinking some little time over the 
matter, she said with some embarrassment, but with a 
candour that did her much honour : 

" Well, now I come to think of it, it was the story 
of Cinderella." 

Now, I am not holding any brief for this story in 
particular. I think the reason it was remembered was 
because of the dramatic form in which it was presented 
to her, which fired her imagination and kept the 
memory alight. I quite realise that a scientific fact 
might also have been easily remembered if it was 
presented in the form of a successful chemical experi- 
ment : but this also has something of the dramatic 
appeal and will be remembered on that account. 

Sully says : " We cannot understand the fascination 
of a story for children save in remembering that for 
their young minds, quick to imagine, and unversed in 
abstract reflection, words are not dead things but 
winged, as the old Greeks called them." 1 

The Red Queen (in " Through the Looking- 
Glass ") was more psychological than she knew when 
she made the memorable statement : " When once 
you've said a thing that fixes it, and you must take the 
consequences." 

In Curtin's Introduction to " Myths and Folk Tales 
of the Russians," he says : 

" I remember well the feeling roused in my mind 
at the mention or sight of the name Lucifer during the 
early years of my life. It stood for me as the name 
of a being stupendous, dreadful in moral deformity, 

1. From " Studies of Childhood/' page 55, 



INDIAN STORY TELLERS 91 

lurid, hideous and mighty. I remember the surprise 
which which, when I had grown somewhat older and 
began to study Latin, I came upon the name in Virgil 
where it means light-bringer — the herald of the Sun." 

Plato has said : " That the End of Education should 
be the training by suitable habits of the Instincts of 
Virtue in the Child." 

About two thousand years later, Sir Philip Sidney, 
in his " Defence of Poesy," says : " The final end of 
learning is to draw and lead us to so high a perfection 
as our degenerate souls, made worse by their clay 
lodgings, can be capable of." 

And yet it is neither the Greek philosopher nor the 
Elizabethan poet that makes the every-day application 
of these principles ; but we have a hint of this applica- 
tion from the Pueblo tribe of Indians, of whom 
Lummis tells us the following : 

" There is no duty to which a Pueblo child is trained 
in which he has to be content with a bare command : 
Do this. For each he learns a fairy-tale designed to 
explain how children first came to know that it was 
right to ' do this,' and detailing the sad results that 
befell those who did otherwise. Some tribes have 
regular story-tellers, men who have devoted a great 
deal of time to learning the myths and stories of their 
people and who possess, in addition to a good memory, 
a vivid imagination. The mother sends for one of 
these, and having prepared a feast for him, she and her 
little brood, who are curled up near her, await the 
Fairy Stories of the dreamer, who after his feast and 
smoke entertains the company for hours." 

In modern times, the nurse, who is now receiving 
such complete training for her duties with the children, 
should be ready to imitate the ''dreamer" of the 
Indian tribe. I rejoice to find that regular instruction 



92 EFFECT OF THE STORY 

in Story-telling is being given in many of the institu- 
tions where the nurses are trained. 

Some years ago there appeared a book by Dion 
Calthrop called " King Peter," which illustrates very 
fully the effect of story-telling. It is the account of 
the education of a young prince which is carried on at 
first by means of stories, and later he is taken out into 
the arena of Life to be shown what is happening there 
— the dramatic appeal being always the means used to 
awaken his imagination. The fact that only one story 
a year is told him prevents our seeing the effect from 
day to day, but the time matters little. We only need 
faith to believe that the growth, though slow, was very 
sure. 

There is something of the same idea in the " Adven- 
tures of Telemachus," written by Fenelon for his royal 
pupil, the young Duke of Burgundy; but whereas 
Calthrop trusts to the results of indirect teaching by 
means of dramatic stories, Fenelon, on the contrary, 
makes use of the somewhat heavy, didactic method, so 
that one would think the attention of the young prince 
must have wandered at times ; and I imagine 
Telemachus was in the same condition when he was 
addressed at some length by Mentor, who, being 
Minerva (though in disguise), should occasionally 
have displayed that sense of humour which must 
always temper true wisdom : 

Take, for instance, the heavy reproof conveyed in 
the following passage : 

" Death and shipwreck are less dreadful than the 
pleasures that attack Virtue. . . . Youth is full of 
presumption and arrogance, though nothing in the 
world is so frail : it fears nothing, and vainly relies on 
its own strength, believing everything with the utmost 
levity and without any precaution." 



HUMAN INTEREST 93 

And on another occasion, when Calypso hospitably 
provides clothes for the shipwrecked men, and Tele- 
machus is handling a tunic of the finest wool and white 
as snow, with a vest of purple embroidered with gold, 
and displaying much pleasure in the magnificence of 
the clothes, Mentor addresses him in a severe voice, 
saying : " Are these, O Telemachus, the thoughts 
that ought to occupy the heart of the son of Ulysses ? 
A young man who loves to dress vainly, as a woman 
does, is unworthy of wisdom or glory." 

I remember, as a schoolgirl of thirteen, having to 
commit to memory several books of these adventures, 
so as to become familiar with the style. Far from 
being impressed by the wisdom of Mentor, I was 
simply bored, and wondered why Telemachus did not 
escape from him. The only part in the book that 
really interested me was Calypso's unrequited love for 
Telemachus, but this was always the point where we 
ceased to learn by heart, which surprised me greatly, 
for it was here that the real human interest seemed 
to begin. 

Of all the effects which I hope for from the telling of 
stories in the schools, personally I place first the 
dramatic joy we bring to the children and to ourselves. 
But there are many who would consider this result as 
fantastic, if not frivolous, and not to be classed among 
the educational values concocted with the introduction 
of stories, into the school curriculum. I therefore 
propose to speak of other effects of story-telling which 
may seem of more practical value. 

The first, which is of a purely negative character, is 
that through means of a dramatic story we can counter- 
act some of the sights and sounds of the streets which 
appeal to the melodramatic instinct in children. I am 
sure that ail teachers whose work lies in the crowded 



94 EFFECT OF THE STORY 

cities must have realised the effect produced on 
children by what they see and hear on their way to 
and from school. If we merely consider the hoardings, 
with their realistic representations, quite apart from 
the actual dramatic happenings in the street, we at once 
perceive that the ordinary school interests pale before 
such lurid appeals as these. How can we expect the 
child who has stood open-mouthed before a poster 
representing a woman chloroformed by a burglar, 
whilst that hero escapes in safety with her jewels, to 
display any interest in the arid monotony of the 
multiplication-table ? The illegitimate excitement 
created by the sight of the depraved burglar can only 
be counteracted by something equally exciting along 
the realistic but legitimate side ; and this is where the 
story of the right kind becomes so valuable, and why 
the teacher who is artistic enough to undertake the 
task can find the short path to results which theorists 
seek for so long in vain. It is not even necessary to 
have an exceedingly exciting story; sometimes one 
which will bring about pure reaction may be just as 
suitable. 

I remember in my personal experience an instance 
of this kind. I had been reading with some children 
of about ten years old the story from Cymbeline, of 
Imogen in the forest scene, when the brothers strew 
flowers upon her, and sing the funeral dirge, 

" Fear no more the heat of the sun." 

Just as we had all taken on this tender, gentle mood, 
the door opened and one of the prefects announced in a 
loud voice the news of the relief of Mafeking. The 
children were on their feet at once, cheering lustily, 
and for the moment the joy over the relief of the brave 
garrison was the predominant feeling. Then, before 



INFLUENCE OF ENVIRONMENT 95 

the Jingo spirit had time to assert itself, I took advan- 
tage of a momentary reaction and said : " Now, 
children, don't you think we can pay England the 
tribute of going back to England's greatest poet?" 
In a few minutes we were back in the heart of the 
Forest, and I can still hear the delightful intonation of 
those subdued voices repeating : 

Golden lads and girls all must 

Like chimney-sweepers come to dust. 

It is interesting to note that the same problem that 
is exercising us to-day was a source of difficulty to 
people in remote times. The following is taken from 
an old Chinese document, and has particular interest 
for us to-day. 

" The Philosopher Mentius (born 371 B.C.) was left 
fatherless at a very tender age and brought up by his 
mother Changsi. The care of this prudent and atten- 
tive mother has been cited as a model for all virtuous 
parents. The house she occupied was near that of a 
butcher : she observed at the first cry of the animals 
that were being slaughtered, the little Mentius ran to 
be present at the sight, and that, on his return, he 
sought to imitate what he had seen. Fearful lest his 
heart might become hardened, and accustomed to the 
sights of blood, she removed to another house which 
was in the neighbourhood of a cemetery. The relations 
of those who were buried there came often to weep 
upon their graves, and make their customary libations. 
The lad soon took pleasure in their ceremonies and 
amused himself by imitating them. This was a new 
subject of uneasiness to his mother : she feared her son 
might come to consider as a jest what is of all things 
the most serious, and that he might acquire a habit 
of performing with levity, and as a matter of routine 



96 EFFECT OF THE STORY 

merely, ceremonies which demand the most exact 
attention and respect. Again therefore she anxiously 
changed the dwelling, and went to live in the city, 
opposite to a school, where her son found examples the 
most worthy of imitation, and began to profit by them. 
This anecdote has become incorporated by the Chinese 
into a proverb, which they constantly quote : The 
Mother of Mentius seeks a neighbourhood." 

Another influence we have to counteract is that of 
newspaper headings which catch the eye of children 
in the streets and appeal so powerfully to their 
imagination. 
Shakespeare has said : 

Tell me where is Fancy bred, 
Or in the heart, or in the head ? 
How begot, how nourished ? 

Reply, reply. 
It is engendered in the eyes 
With gazing fed : and Fancy dies 
In the cradle where it lies. 

Let us all ring Fancy's knell. 
I'll begin it — ding, dong, bell. 

" Merchant of Venice." 

If this be true, it is of importance to decide what 
our children shall look upon as far as we can control 
the vision, so that we can form some idea of the effect 
upon their imagination. 

Having alluded to the dangerous influence of the 
street, I should hasten to say that this influence is very 
far from being altogether bad. There are possibilities 
of romance in street life which may have just the same 
kind of effect on children as the telling of exciting 
stories. I am indebted to Mrs. Arnold Glover (Hon. 
Sec. of the National Organisation of Girls' Clubs), 
one of the most widely informed people on this subject, 
for the two following experiences gathered from the 



ROMANCE IN OUR vSTREETS 97 

streets which bear indirectly on the subject of story- 
telling : 

Mrs. Glover was visiting a sick woman in a very 
poor neighbourhood, and found, sitting on the door- 
step of the house, two children, holding something 
tightly grasped in their little hands, and gazing 
with much expectancy towards the top of the street. 
She longed to know what they were doing, but not 
being one of those unimaginative and tactless folk who 
rush headlong into the mysteries of children's doings, 
she passed them at first in silence. It was only when 
she found them still in the same silent and expectant 
posture half-an-hour later that she said tentatively : 
" I wonder whether you would tell me what you are 
doing here?" After some hesitation, one of them 
said, in a shy voice : " We're waitin' for the barren" 
It then transpired that, once a week, a vegetable- and 
flower-cart was driven through this particular street, 
on its way to a more prosperous neighbourhood, and 
on a few red-letter days, a flower, or a sprig, or even a 
root sometimes fell out of the back of the cart ; and 
those two little children were waiting there in hope, 
with their hands full of soil, ready to plant anything 
which might by golden chance fall that way, in their 
secret garden of oyster-shells. 

This seems to me as charming a fairy-tale as any 
that our books can supply. 

Another time Mrs. Glover was collecting the pennies 
for the Holiday Fund Savings Bank from the children 
who came weekly to her house. She noticed on three 
consecutive Mondays that one little lad deliberately 
helped himself to a new envelope from her table. Not 
wishing to frighten or startle him, she allowed this to 
continue for some weeks, and then one day, having 
dismissed the other children, she asked him quite 



98 EFFECT OF THE STORY 

quietly why he was taking the envelopes. At first he 
was very sulky, and said : " I need them better than 
you do." She quite agreed this might be, but 
reminded him that, after all, they belonged to her. 
She promised, however, that if he would tell her for 
what purpose he wanted the envelopes, she would 
endeavour to help him in the matter. Then came the 
astonishing announcement : " I am building a navy." 
After a little more gradual questioning, Mrs. Glover 
drew from the boy the information that the Borough 
Water Carts passed through the side street once a 
week, flushing the gutter; that then the Envelope 
Ships were made to sail on the water and pass under 
the covered ways which formed bridges for wayfarers 
and tunnels for the "navy." Great was the excitement 
when the ships passed out of sight and were recognised 
as they arrived safely at the other end. Of course the 
expenses in raw material were greatly diminished by 
the illicit acquisition of Mrs. Glover's property, and in 
this way she had unconsciously provided the neigh- 
bourhood with a navy and a Commander. Her first 
instinct, after becoming acquainted with the whole 
story, was to present the boy with a real boat, but on 
second thought she collected and gave him a number 
of old envelopes with names and addresses upon them, 
which added greatly to the excitement of the sailing, 
because they could be more easily identified as they 
came out of the other side of the tunnel, and had their 
respective reputations as to speed. 

Here is indeed food for romance, and I give both 
instances to prove that the advantages of street life are 
to be taken into consideration as well as the disadvan- 
tages ; though I think we are bound to admit that the 
latter outweigh the former. 

One of the immediate results of dramatic stories is 



AVOID THE COMMONPLACE 99 

the escape from the commonplace, to which I have 
already alluded in quoting Mr. Goschen's words. The 
desire for this escape is a healthy one, common to 
adults and children. When we wish to get away from 
our own surroundings and interests, we do for our- 
selves what I maintain we ought to do for children ; we 
step into the land of fiction. It has always been a 
source of astonishment to me that, in trying to escape 
from our own every-day surroundings, we do not step 
more boldly into the land of pure romance, which 
would Form a real contrast to our every-day life, but in 
nine cases out of ten the fiction which is sought after 
deals with the subjects of our ordinary existence — 
namely, frenzied finance, sordid poverty, political 
corruption, fast society, and religious doubts. 

There is the same danger in the selection of fiction 
for children : namely, a tendency to choose very 
utilitarian stories, both in form and substance, so that 
we do not lift the children out of the commonplace. I 
remember once seeing the titles of two little books, the 
contents of which were being read or told to small 
children of the poorer class : one was called " Tom the 
Boot-black," the other, "Dan the News-boy." My 
chief objection to these stories was the fact that neither 
of the heroes rejoiced in their work for the work's 
sake. Had Tom even invented a new kind of blacking, 
or if Dan had started a splendid newspaper, it might 
have been encouraging for those among the listeners 
who were thinking of engaging in similar professions. 
It is true, both gentlemen amassed large fortunes, but 
surely the school age is not to be limited to such 
dreams and aspirations as these ! One wearies of the 
tales of boys who arrive in a town with one cent 
in their pockets, and leave it as millionaires, with the 
added importance of a Mayoralty, not to speak of a 



ioo EFFECT OF THE STORY 

Knighthood. It is true that the romantic prototype of 
these boys is Dick Whittington, for whom we uncon* 
sciously cherish the affection which we often bestow 
on a far-off personage. Perhaps — who knows ? — it is 
the picturesque adjunct of the cat — lacking to modern 
millionaires. 1 

I do not think it Utopian to present to children a 
fair share of stories which deal with the importance of 
things " untouched by hand." They too can learn at 
an early age that " the things which are seen are 
temporal, but the things which are unseen are 
spiritual." To those who wish to try the effect of such 
stories on children, I present for their encouragement 
the following lines from Whitcomb Riley : 

THE TREASURE OF THE WISE MAN. 2 

Oh, the night was dark and the night was late, 

When the robbers came to rob him ; 

And they picked the lock of his palace-gate, 

The robbers who came to rob him — 

They picked the lock of the palace-gate, 

Seized his jewels and gems of State 

His coffers of gold and his priceless plate,— 

The robbers that came to rob him. 

But loud laughed he in the morning red! — 
For of what had the robbers robbed him ? 
Ho ! hidden safe, as he slept in bed, 
When the robbers came to rob him, — 

1. I always remember the witty jibe of a chairman at my expense 
on this subject, who, when proposing a vote of thanks to me, asked 
whether I seriously approved of the idea of providing "wild-cat 
schemes " in order to bring romance into the lives of millionaires. 

2 # From The Lockerbie Book, by James Whitcomb Riley. Copy- 
right 1911. Used by special permission of the publishers, the 
Bobbs-Merrill Company. 



NURSERY RHYMES ioi 

They robbed him not of a golden shred 

Of the childish dreams in his wise old head — 

" And they're welcome to all things else," he said, 

When the robbers came to rob him. 

There is a great deal of this romantic spirit, com- 
bined with a delightful sense of irresponsibility, which 
I claim above all things for small children, to be found 
in our old Nursery Rhymes. I quote from the follow- 
ing article written by the Rev. R. L. Gales for the 
Nation. 

After speaking on the subject of Fairy Stories being- 
eliminated from the school curriculum, the writer 
adds : 

" This would be lessening the joy of the world and 
taking from generations yet unborn the capacity for 
wonder, the power to take a large unselfish interest 
in the spectacle of things, and putting them forever 
at the mercy of small private cares. 

> A Nursery Rhyme is the most sane, the most 
unselfish thing in the world. It calls up some delight- 
ful image, — a little nut-tree with a silver walnut and a 
golden pear; some romantic adventure only for the 
child's delight and liberation from the bondage of 
unseeing dulness : it brings before the mind the 
quintessence of some good thing : 

' " ' The little dog laughed to see such sport ' — 
there is the soul of good humour, of sanity, of health 
in the laughter of that innocently wicked little dog. 
It is the laughter of pure frolic without unkindness. 
To have laughed with the little dog as a child is the 
best preservative against mirthless laughter in later 
years — the horse laughter of brutality, the ugly 
laughter of spite, the acrid laughter of fanaticism. The 
world of Nursery Rhymes, the old world of Mrs. 



102 EFFECT OF THE STORY 

Slipper-Slopper, is the world of natural things, of 
quick, healthy motion, of the joy of living. 

" In Nursery Rhymes the child is entertained with 
all the pageant of the world. It walks in Fairy 
Gardens, and for it the singing birds pass. All the 
King's horses and all the King's men pass before it in 
their glorious array. Craftsmen of all sorts, bakers, 
confectioners, silversmiths, blacksmiths are busy for it 
with all their arts and mysteries, as at the court of an 
Eastern King." 

In insisting on the value of this escape from the 
commonplace, I cannot prove the importance of it more 
clearly than by showing what may happen to a child 
who is deprived of his birthright by having none of the 
Fairy Tale element presented to him. In " Father and 
Son," Mr. Edmund Gosse says: 

" Meanwhile, capable as I was of reading, I found 
my greatest pleasure in the pages of books. The 
range of these was limited, for story-books of every 
description were sternly excluded. No fiction of any 
kind, religious or secular, was admitted into the house. 
In this it was to my Mother, not to my Father, that 
the prohibition was due. She had a remarkable, I 
confess, to me somewhat unaccountable impression 
that to 'tell a story,' that is, to compose fictitious 

narrative of any kind, was a sin Nor would she 

read the chivalrous tales in the verse of Sir Walter 
Scott, obstinately alleging that they were not true. 
She would read nothing but lyrical and subjective 

poetry As a child, however, she had possessed a 

passion for making up stories, and so considerable a 
skill in it, that she was constantly being begged to 

indulge others with its exercise ' When I was a 

very little child,' she says, ' I used to amuse myself 
and my brothers with inventing stories such as I had 



IMAGINATION AND INSTINCT 103 

read. Having, as I suppose, naturally a restless mind 
and busy imagination, this soon became the chief 
pleasure of my life. Unfortunately, my brothers were 
always fond of encouraging this propensity, and I 
found in Taylor, my maid, a still greater tempter. I 
had not known there was any harm in it, until Miss 
Shore (a Calvinistic governess), finding it out, lectured 
me severely and told me it was wicked. From that 
time forth I considered that to invent a story of any 

kind was a sin But the longing to invent stories 

grew with violence. The simplicity of Truth was not 
enough for me. I must needs embroider imagination 
upon it, and the folly and wickedness which disgraced 

my heart are more than I am able to express ' 

This (the Author, her son, adds) is surely a very 
painful instance of the repression of an instinct." 

In contrast to the stifling of the imagination, it is 
good to recall the story of the great Hermits who, 
having listened to the discussion of the Monday sitting 
at the Academie des Sciences (Institut de France) as to 
the best way to teach the young how to shoot in the 
direction of mathematical genius, said : " Cultivez 
V 'imagination, messieurs. Tout est la. Sivous voulez 
des mathematiciens f donnez a vos enfants a lire — des 
Contes de Fees" 

Another important effect of the story is to develop at 
an early age sympathy for children of other countries 
where conditions are different from our own. There is 
a book used in American schools called " Little 
Citizens of other Lands," dealing with the clothes, the 
games and occupations of those little citizens. Stories 
of this kind are particularly necessary to prevent the 
development of insular notions, and are a check on that 
robust form of Philistinism, only too prevalent, alas ! 
among grown-ups, which looks askance at new 

H 



104 EFFECT OF THE STORY 

suggestions and makes the withering remark : " How 
un-English! How queer!" — the second comment 
being, it would seem, a natural corollary to the first. 1 

I have so constantly to deal with the question of 
confusion between Truth and Fiction in the mind of 
children that it might be useful to offer here an 
example of the way they make the distinction for 
themselves. 

Mrs. Ewing says on this subject : 

"If there are young intellects so imperfect as to be 
incapable of distinguishing between Fancy and False- 
hood, it is most desirable to develop in them the power 
to do so, but, as a rule, in childhood, we appreciate 
the distinction with a vivacity which as elders our 
care-clogged memories fail to recall." 

Mr. P. A. Barnett, in his book on the " Common- 
sense of Education," says, alluding to Fairy Tales : 

'* Children will act them but not act upon them, and 
they will not accept the incidents as part of their 
effectual belief. They will imagine, to be sure, 
grotesque worlds, full of admirable and interesting 
personages to whom strange things might have 
happened. So much the better; this largeness of 
imagination is one of the possessions that distinguish 
the better nurtured child from others less fortunate." 

The following passage from Stevenson's essay on 
Child Play % will furnish an instance of children's 
aptitude for creating their own dramatic atmosphere : 

'■■ When my cousin and I took our porridge of a 
morning, we had a device to enliven the course of a 
meal. He ate his with sugar, and explained it to be a 
country continually buried under snow. I took mine 

1. See Little Cousin Series in American collection of tales at the 
end of book. 

2. From " Virginibus Puerisque and other Essays." 



HW H W H iHiBBlimBHh 



CHILDREN'S PLAY 105 

with milk, and explained it to be a country suffering 
gradual inundation. You can imagine us exchanging 
bulletins ; how here was an island still unsubmerged, 
here a valley not yet covered with snow ; what inven- 
tions were made ; how his population lived in cabins 
on perches and travelled on stilts, and how mine was 
always in boats ; how the interest grew furious as the 
last corner of safe ground was cut off on all sides and 
grew smaller every moment ; and how, in fine, the food 
was of altogether secondary importance, and might 
even have been nauseous, so long as we seasoned it 
with these dreams. But perhaps the most exciting 
moments I ever had over a meal, were in the case of 
calves' feet jelly. It was hardly possible not to believe, 
and you may be quite sure, so far from trying it, I did 
all I could to favour the illusion — that some part of it 
was hollow, and that sooner or later my spoon would 
lay open the secret tabernacle of that golden rock. 
There, might some Red-Beard await this hour; there 
might one find the treasures of the Forty Thieves. 
And so I quarried on slowly, with bated breath, 
savouring the interest. Believe me, I had little palate 
left for the jelly ; and though I preferred the taste 
when I took cream with it, I used often to go without 
because the cream dimmed the transparent fractures." 

In his work on Imagination, Ribot says : " The free 
initiative of children is always superior to the imitations 
we pretend to make for them." 

The passage from Robert Stevenson becomes more 
clear from a scientific point of view when taken in 
connection with one from Karl Groos' book on the 
" Psychology of Animal Play " : 

" The Child is wholly absorbed in his play, and yet 
under the ebb and flow of thought and feeling like still 
water under wind-swept waves, he has the knowledge 



106 EFFECT OF THE STORY 

that it is pretence after all. Behind the sham ' I ' that 
takes part in the game, stands the unchanged ' I ' 
which regards the sham ' I ' with quiet superiority." 

Queyrat speaks of play as one of the distinct phases 
of a child's imagination; it is "essentially a meta- 
morphosis of reality, a transformation of places and 
things." 

Now to return to the point which Mrs. Ewing 
makes, namely, that we should develop in normal 
children the power of distinguishing between Truth 
and Falsehood. 

I should suggest including two or three stories 
which would test that power in children, and if they 
fail to realise the difference between romancing and 
telling lies then it is evident that they need special 
attention and help along this line. I give the titles of 
two stories of this kind in the collection at the end of 
the book. 1 

So far we have dealt only with the negative results 
of stories, but there are more important effects, and I 
am persuaded that if we are careful in our choice of 
stories, and artistic in our presentation (so that the 
truth is framed, so to speak, in the memory), we can 
unconsciously correct evil tendencies in children which 
they only recognise in themselves when they have 
already criticised them in the characters of the story. 
I have sometimes been misunderstood on this point, 
therefore I should like to make it quite clear. I do 
not mean that stories should take the place entirely of 
moral or direct teaching, but that on many occasions 
they could supplement and strengthen moral teaching, 
because the dramatic appeal to the imagination is 
quicker than the moral appeal to the conscience. A 
child will often resist the latter lest it should make him 

1. See Longbow story, " John and the Pig." 



muaw«BHBMn 



ENCOURAGE MAGNANIMITY 107 

uncomfortable or appeal to his personal sense of 
responsibility : it is often not in his power to resist the 
former, because it has taken possession of him before 
he is aware of it. 

As a concrete example, I offer three verses from a 
poem entitled "A Ballad for a Boy," written some 
twelve years ago by W. Cory, an Eton master. The 
whole poem is to be found in a book of poems known 
as " Ionica " (published by George Allen and Co.). 

The poem describes a fight between two ships, the 
French ship Temeraire and the English ship Quebec. 
The English ship was destroyed by fire. Farmer, the 
captain, was killed, and the officers taken prisoners : 

" They dealt with us as brethren, they mourned for Farmer 

dead; 
And as the wounded captives passed, each Breton bowed 

the head. 
Then spoke the French lieutenant, ' Twas the fire that won, 

not we : 
You never struck your flag to us; you'll go to England 

free.' 1 

" 'Twas the sixth day of October, Seventeen-hundred-seventy- 
nine, 
A year when nations ventured against us to combine, 
Quebec was burned and Farmer slain, by us remembered 

not; 
But thanks be to the French book wherein they're not 
forgot. 
" And you, if you've to fight the French, my youngster, bear 
in mind 
Those seamen of King Louis so chivalrous and kind ; 
Think of the Breton gentlemen who took our lads to Brest, 
And treat some rescued Breton as a comrade and a guest." 
1. This is even a higher spirit than that shown in the advice given 
in the Agamemnon (speaking of the victor's attitude after the taking 
of Troy) : 

" Yea, let no craving for forbidden gain 
Bid conquerors yield before the darts of greed." 



108 EFFECT OF THE STORY 

This poem is specially to be commended because it 
is another example of the finer qualities which are 
developed in war. 1 

Now, such a ballad as this, which, being pure 
narrative, could easily be introduced into the story- 
hour, would do as much to foster <l L' entente cordiale" 
as any processions or civic demonstrations, or lavish 
international exchange of hospitality. It has also a 
great practical application now that we are encouraging 
visits between English and foreign children. Let us 
hope the entente cordiale will not stop at France. 
There must be many such instances of magnanimity 
and generosity displayed to us by other nations, and it 
might be well to collect them and include them among 
stories for the school curriculum. 

But in all our stories, in order to produce desired 
effects we must refrain from holding, as Burroughs 
says, " a brief for either side," and we must leave the 
decision of the children free in this matter. 2 

In a review of Ladd's Psychology in the 
" Academy," we find a passage which refers as much 
to the story as to the novel : 

i( The psychological novelist girds up his loins 
and sets himself to write little essays on each of his 
characters. If he have the gift of the thing he may 
analyse motives with a subtlety which is more than 
their desert, and exhibit simple folk passing through 
the most dazzling rotations. If he be a novice, he is 
reduced to mere crude invention — the result in both 

1. The great war in which we have become involved since this 
book was written has furnished brilliant examples of these finer 
qualities. 

2, It is curious to find that the story of " Puss-in-Boots ' in its 
variants is sometimes presented with a moral, sometimes without. 
In the valley of the Ganges it has none. In Cashmere it has one 
moral, in Zanzibar another. 



_ 



HISTORY AND FICTION 109 

cases is quite beyond the true purpose of Art. Art — 
when all is said and done — is a suggestion, and it 
refuses to be explained. Make it obvious, unfold it 
in detail, and you reduce it to a dead letter." 

Again there is a sentence by Schopenhauer applied 
to novels which would apply equally well to stories : 

" Skill consists in setting the inner life in motion 
with the smallest possible array of circumstances, for 
it is this inner life that excites our interest." 

Now, in order to produce an encouraging and lasting 
effect by means of our stories, we should be careful 
to introduce a certain number from fiction where virtue 
is rewarded and vice punished, because to appreciate 
the fact that " virtue is its own reward " calls for a 
developed and philosophic mind, or a born saint, of 
whom there will not, I think, be many among normal 
children : a comforting fact, on the whole, as the 
normal teacher is apt to confuse them with prigs. 

A grande dame visiting an elementary school 
listened to the telling of an exciting story from fiction, 
and was impressed by the thrill of delight which passed 
through the children. But when the story was 
finished, she said : " But o~h ! what a pity the story was 
not taken from actual history ! ' ' 

Now, not only was this comment quite beside the 
mark, but the lady in question did not realise that 
pure fiction has one quality which history cannot have. 
The historian, bound by fact and accuracy, must often 
let his hero come to grief. The poet (or, in this case, 
we may call him, in the Greek sense, the " maker " of 
stories) strives to show ideal justice. 

What encouragement to virtue (except for the 
abnormal child) can be offered by the stories of good 
men coming to grief, such as we find in Miltiades, 
Phocion, Socrates, Severus, Cicero, Cato and Caesar? 



no EFFECT OF THE STORY 

Sir Philip Sidney says in his "Defence of Poesy" : 

" Only the Poet declining to be held by the limita- 
tions of the lawyer, the historian, the grammarian, 
the rhetorician, the logician, the physician, the meta- 
physician, if lifted up with the vigour of his own 
imagination ; doth grow in effect into another nature 
in making things either better than Nature bringeth 
forth or quite anew, as the Heroes, Demi-gods, 
Cyclops, Furies and such like, so as he goeth hand 
in hand with Nature not enclosed in the narrow range 
of her gifts but freely ranging within the Zodiac of 
his own art — her world is brazen ; the poet only 
delivers a golden one." 

The effect of the story need not stop at the negative 
task of correcting evil tendencies. There is the 
positive effect of translating the abstract ideal of the 
story into concrete action. 

I was told by Lady Henry Somerset that when the 
first set of slum children came down for a fortnight's 
holiday in the country, she was much startled and 
shocked by the obscenity of the games they played 
amongst themselves. Being a sound psychologist, 
Lady Henry wisely refrained from appearing surprised 
or from attempting any direct method of reproof. " I 
saw," she said, "that the 'goody' element would 
have no effect, so I changed the whole atmosphere 
by reading to them or telling them the most thrilling 
mediaeval tales without any commentary. By the end 
of the fortnight the activities had all changed. The 
boys were performing astonishing deeds of prowess, 
and the girls were allowing themselves to be rescued 
from burning towers and fetid dungeons." Now, if 
these deeds of chivalry appear somewhat stilted to us, 
we can at least realise that, having changed the whole 
atmosphere of the filthy games, 'it is easier to translate 






DANGER OF DIRECT APPEAL m 

the deeds into something a little more in accordance 
with the spirit of the age, and boys will more readily 
wish later on to save their sisters from dangers more 
sordid and commonplace than fiery towers and dark 
dungeons, if they have once performed the deeds in 
which they had to court danger and self-sacrifice for 
themselves. 

And now we come to the question as to how these 
effects are to be maintained. In what has already 
been stated about the danger of introducing the 
dogmatic and direct appeal into the story, it is evident 
that the avoidance of this element is the first means of 
preserving the story in all its artistic force in the 
memory of the child, and we must be careful, as I 
point out in the chapter on Questions, not to interfere 
by comment or question with the atmosphere we have 
made round the story, or else, in the future, that story 
will become blurred and overlaid with the remem- 
brance, not of the artistic whole, as presented by /the 
teller of the story, but by some unimportant small side 
issue raised by an irrelevant question or a superfluous 
comment. 

Many people think that the dramatisation of the 
story by the children themselves helps to maintain 
the effect produced. Personally, I fear there is the 
same danger as in the immediate reproduction of the 
story, namely, that the general dramatic effect may be 
weakened. 

If, however, there is to be dramatisation (and I do 
not wish to dogmatise on the subject), I think it should 
be confined to facts and not fancies, and this is why I 
realise the futility of the dramatisation of Fairy Tales. 

Horace Scudder says on this subject : 

" Nothing has done more to vulgarise the Fairy 
than its introduction on the stage. The charm of 



ii2 EFFECT OF THE STORY 

the Fairy Tale is its divorce from human experience ; 
the charm of the stage is its realisation in miniature of 
Human Life. If a frog is heard to speak, if a dog is 
changed before our eyes into a prince by having cold 
water dashed over it, the charm of the Fairy Tale has 
fled, and, in its place, we have the perplexing pleasure 
of leger de main. Since the real life of a Fairy is in 
the imagination, a wrong is committed when it is 
dragged from its shadowy hiding-place and made to 
turn into ashes under the calcium light of the under- 
standing." 1 

I am bound to confess that the teachers have a case 
when they plead for this re-producing of the story, 
and there are three arguments they use whose validity 
I admit, but which have nevertheless not converted me, 
because the loss, to my mind, would exceed the gain. 

The first argument they put forward is that the 
reproduction of the story enables the child to enlarge 
and improve his vocabulary. Now I greatly sympathise 
with this point of view, only, as I regard the story- 
hour as a very precious and special one, which I think 
may have a lasting effect on the character of a child, I 
do not think it important that, during this hour, a 
child should be called upon to improve his vocabulary 
at the expense of the dramatic whole, and at the 
expense of the literary form in which the story has 
been presented. It would be like using the Bible for 
parsing or paraphrase or pronunciation. So far, I 
believe, the line has been drawn here, though there are 
blasphemers who have laid impious hands on Milton 
or Shakespeare for this purpose. 

There are surely other lessons (as I have already 
said in dealing with the reproduction of the story 

1. From " Childhood in Literature and Art." Study of Hans C. 
Andersen, page 201. 



MHMHHMIMMHHI 



VALUE OF CREATIVE WORK 113 

quite apart from the dramatisation), lessons more 
utilitarian in character, which can be used for this 
purpose : the facts of history (I mean the mere facts 
as compared with the deep truths) and those of 
geography, above all, the grammar lessons are those 
in which the vocabulary can be enlarged and 
improved. But I am anxious to keep the story-hour 
apart as dedicated to something higher than these 
excellent but utilitarian considerations. 

The second argument used by the teachers is the 
joy felt by the children in being allowed to dramatise 
the stories. This, too, appeals very strongly to me, 
but there is a means of satisfying their desire and yet 
protecting the dramatic whole, and that is occasionally 
to allow children to act out their own dramatic inven- 
tions ; this, to my mind, has great educational signifi- 
cance : it is original and creative work and, apart 
from the joy of the immediate performance, there is 
the interesting process of comparison which can be 
presented to the children, showing them the difference 
between their elementary attempts and the finished 
product of the experienced artist, which they can be 
led to recognise by their own powers of observation 
if the teachers are not in too great a hurry to point it 
out themselves. 

Here is a short original story (quoted by the French 
psychologist, Queyrat, in his " Jeux de l'enfance ") 
written by a child of five : 

l< One day I went to sea in a life-boat — all at once 
I saw an enormous whale, and I jumped out of the 
boat to catch him, but he was so big that I climbed 
on his back and rode astride, and all the little fishes 
laughed to see." 

Here is a complete and exciting drama, making a 
wonderful picture and teeming with adventure. We 



ii 4 EFFECT OF THE STORY 

could scarcely offer anything to so small a child for 
reproduction that would be a greater stimulus to the 
imagination. 

Here is another, offered by Loti, but the age of the 
child is not given : 

" Once upon a time, a little girl out in the Colonies 
cut open a huge melon, and out popped a green beast 
and stung her, and the little child died." 

Loti adds : " The phrases ' out in the Colonies ' 
and .' a huge melon ' were enough to plunge me 
suddenly into a dream. As by an apparition, I beheld 
tropical trees, forests alive with marvellous birds. 
Oh ! the simple magic of the words ' the Colonies ' ! 
In my childhood they stood for a multitude of distant 
sun-scorched countries, with their palm-trees, their 
enormous flowers, their black natives, their wild beasts, 
their endless possibilities of adventure." 

I quote this in full because it shows so clearly the 
magic force of words to evoke pictures, without any 
material representation. It is just the opposite effect 
of the pictures presented to the bodily eye without 
the splendid educational opportunity for the child to 
form his own mental image. 

I am more and more convinced that the rare power 
of visualization is accounted for by the lack of mental 
practice afforded along these lines. 

The third argument used by the teachers in favour 
of the dramatisation of the stories is that it is a means 
of discovering how much the child has really learnt 
from the story. Now this argument makes absolutely 
no appeal to me. 

My experience, in the first place, has taught me 
that a child very seldom gives out any account of a 
deep impression made upon him : it is too sacred and 
personal. But he very soon learns to know what is 






PLANTING FOR ETERNITY 115 

I expected of him, and he keeps a set of stock sentences 
which he has found out are acceptable to the teacher. 
How can we possibly gauge the deep effects of a story 
in this way, or how can a child, by acting out a story, 
describe the subtle elements which you have tried to 
introduce ? You might as well try to show with a 
pint measure how the sun and rain have affected a 
plant, instead of rejoicing in the beauty of the sure, 
if slow, growth. 

Then, again, why are we in such a hurry to find out 
what effects have been produced by our stories ? Does 
it matter whether we know to-day or to-morrow how 
much a child has understood ? For my part, so sure 
do I feel of the effect that I am willing to wait indefi- 
nitely. Only I must make sure that the first presenta- 
tion is truly dramatic and artistic. 

The teachers of general subjects have a much easier 
and more simple task. Those who teach science, 
mathematics, even, to a certain extent, history and 
literature, are able to gauge with a fair amount of 
accuracy, by means of examination, what their pupils 
have learnt. The teaching carried on by means of 
stories can never be gauged in the same manner. We 
must be content, though we have nothing to place in 
our "shop window," content to know of the posses- 
sions behind, and make up our mind that we can show 
the education authorities little or no results from our 
teaching, but that the real fruit will be seen by the 
next generation ; and we can take courage, for, if our 
story be " a thing of beauty," it will never " pass into 
nothingness." 

Carlyle has said : l 

" Of this thing be certain : wouldst thou plant for 
Eternity, then plant into the deep infinite faculties of 

1. " Sartor Resartus," Book III, page 218. 



n6 EFFECT OF THE STORY 

man, his Fantasy and Heart. Wouldst thou plant for 
Year and Day, then plant into his shallow superficial 
faculties, his self-love and arithmetical understanding, 
what will grow there." 

If we use this marvellous Art of Story-Telling in 
the way I have tried to show, then the children who 
have been confided to our care will one day be able 
to bring to us the tribute which Bjornson brought to 
Hans C. Andersen : 

Wings you give to my Imagination, 
Me uplifting to the strange and great ; 

Gave my heart the poet's revelation, 
Glorifying things of low estate. 

When my child-soul hungered all-unknowing, 

With great truths its needs you satisfied : 
Now, a world-worn man, to you is owing 
That the child in me has never died. 

(Translated from the Danish by 
Emilie Poulson.) 






CHAPTER VII. 

On Questions Asked by Teachers. 

The following questions have been put to me so often 
by teachers, in my own country and the States, that 
I have thought it might be useful to give in my book 
some of the attempts I have made to answer them ; 
and I wish to record here an expression of gratitude 
to the teachers who have asked these questions at the 
close of my lectures. It has enabled me to formulate 
my views on the subject and to clear up, by means 
of research and thought, the reason for certain things 
which I had more or less taken for granted. It has 
also constantly modified my own point of view, and 
has prevented me from becoming too dogmatic in 
dealing with other people's methods. 

Question I. Why do I consider it necessary to spend 
so many years on the Art of Story-Telling, 
which takes in, after all, such a restricted 
portion of literature ? 

Just in the same way that an actor thinks it worth 
while to go through so many years' training to fit 
him for the stage, although dramatic literature is also 
only one branch of general literature. The region of 
Storyland is the legitimate stage for children. They 
crave for drama as we do, and because there are 
comparatively few good story-tellers, children do not 
have their dramatic needs satisfied. What is the 
result? We either take them to dramatic perform- 
ances for grown-up people, or we have children's 

117 



n8 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 

theatres where the pieces, charming as they may be, 
are of necessity deprived of the essential elements 
which constitute a drama — or they are shrivelled up 
to suit the capacity of the child. Therefore it would 
seem wiser, whilst the children are quite young, to 
keep them to the simple presentation of stories, 
because, their imagination being keener at that period, 
they have the delight of the inner vision and they 
do not need, as we do, the artificial stimulus provided 
by the machinery of the stage. 1 

Question II. What is to be done if a child asks you : 
Is a story true ? 

I hope I shall not be considered Utopian in my 
ideas if I say that it is quite easy, even with small 
children, to teach them that the seeing of truth is a 
relative matter which depends on the eyes of the seer. 
If we were not afraid to tell our children that all 
through life there are grown-up people who do not 
see things that others see, their own difficulties would 
be helped. 

In his Imagination Creatrice, Queyrat says : " To 
get down into the recesses of a child's mind, one 
would have to become even as he is; we are reduced 
to interpreting that child in the terms of an adult. 
The children we observe live and grow in a civilised 
community, and the result of this is that the develop- 
ment of their imagination is rarely free or complete, 
for as soon as it rises beyond the average level, the 
rationalistic education of parents and schoolmasters 
at once endeavours to curb it. It is restrained in its 

1. I do not deny that there can be charming representations of 
this kind* Miss Netta Syrett has given a triplet of plays at 
the Court Theatre which were entirely on the plane of the child ; 
but these performances were somewhat exceptional. 



■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■iH 



FACT AND MAKE-BELIEVE 119 

flight by an antagonistic power which treats it as a 
kind of incipient madness." 

It is quite easy to show children that if you keep 
things where they belong they are true with regard 
to each other, but that if you drag these things out 
of the shadowy atmosphere of the " make-believe," 
and force them into the land of actual facts, the whole 
thing is out of gear. 

To take a concrete example : The arrival of the 
coach made from a pumpkin and driven by mice is 
entirely in harmony with the Cinderella surroundings, 
and I have never heard one child raise any question 
of the difficulty of travelling in such a coach or of 
the uncertainty of mice in drawing it. But suggest 
to the child that this diminutive vehicle could be 
driven among the cars of Broadway, or amongst the 
motor omnibuses in the Strand, and you would bring 
confusion at once into his mind. 

Having once grasped this, the children will lose the 
idea that Fairy Stories are just for them, and not for 
their elders, and from this they will go on to see that 
it is the child-like mind of the Poet and Seer that 
continues to appreciate these things : that it is the 
dull, heavy person whose eyes so soon become dim 
and unable to see any more the visions which were 
once his own. 

In his essay on Poetry and Life (Glasgow, 1889), 
Professor Bradley says : 

" It is the effect of poetry, not only by expressing 
emotion but in other ways also, to bring life into the 
dead mass of our experience, and to make the world 
significant." 

This applies to children as well as to adults. There 
may come to the child in the story-hour, by some 
stirring poem or dramatic narration, a sudden flash 
1 



i2o QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 

of the possibilities of Life which he had not hitherto 
realised in the even course of. school experience. 

" Poetry," says Professor Bradley, a is a way of 
representing truth ; but there is in it, as its detractors 
have always insisted, a certain untruth or illusion. 
We need not deny this, so long as we remember that 
the illusion is conscious, that no one wishes to deceive, 
and that no one is deceived. But it would be better 
to say that poetry is false to literal fact for the sake 
of obtaining a higher truth. First, in order to 
represent the connection between a more significant 
part of experience and a less significant, poetry, 
instead of linking them together by a chain which 
touches one by one the intermediate objects that 
connect them, leaps from one to the other. It thus 
falls at once into conflict with commonsense." 

Now, the whole of this passage bears as much on 
the question of the truth embodied in a Fairy Tale 
as a poem, and it would be interesting to take some 
of these tales and try to discover where they are false 
to actual fact for the sake of a higher truth. 

Let us take, for instance, the story of Cinderella : 
The coach and pumpkins to which we have alluded, 
and all the magic part of the story, are false to actual 
facts as we meet them in our every-day life; but is it 
not a higher truth that Cinderella could escape from 
her chimney corner by thinking of the brightness 
outside ? In this sense we all travel in pumpkin 
coaches. 

Take the story of Psyche, in any one of the many 
forms it is presented to us in folk-story. The magic 
transformation of the lover is false to actual fact; but 
is it not a higher truth that we are often transformed 
by Circumstance, and that love and courage can 
overcome most difficulties? 






POTENTIAL TRUTH IN FAIRY TALES 121 

Take the story of the Three Bears. It is not in 
accordance with established fact that bears should 
extend hospitality to children who invade their terri- 
tory. Is it not true, in a higher sense, that fearlessness 
often lessens or averts danger ? 

Take the story of Jack and the Bean-Stalk. The 
rapid growth of the bean-stalk and the encounter with 
the Giant are false to literal fact ; but is it not a higher 
truth that the spirit of courage and high adventure 
leads us straight out of the commonplace and often 
sordid facts of Life ? 

Now, all these considerations are too subtle for the 
child, and, if offered in explanation, would destroy 
the excitement and interest of the story ; but they are 
good for those of us who are presenting such stories : 
they not only provide an argument against the objec- 
tion raised by unimaginative people as to the futility, 
if not immorality, of presenting these primitive tales, 
but clear up our own doubt and justify us in the use 
of them, if we need such justification. 

For myself, I am perfectly satisfied that, being part 
of the history of primitive people, it would be foolish 
to ignore them from an evolutionary point of view, 
which constitutes their chief importance ; and it is 
only from the point of view of expediency that I 
mention the potential truths they contain. 

Question III. What are you to do if a child says he 
does not like Fairy Tales ? 

This is not an uncommon case. What we have 
first to determine, under these circumstances, is 
whether this dislike springs from a stolid, prosaic 
nature, whether it springs from a real inability to 
visualize such pictures as the Fairy, or marvellous 
element in the story, presents, or whether (and this is 



122 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 

often the real reason) it is from a fear of being asked 
to believe what his judgment resents as untrue, or 
whether he thinks it is "grown-up " to reject such 
pleasure as unworthy of his years. 

In the first case, it is wise to persevere, in hopes of 
developing the dormant imagination. If the child 
resents the apparent want of truth, we can teach him 
how many-sided truth is, as I suggested in my answer 
to the first question. In the other cases, we must try 
to make it clear that the delight he may venture to 
take now will increase, not decrease, with years; that 
the more you bring to a thing (in the way of experi- 
ence and knowledge) the more you will draw out of it. 

Let us take as a concrete example the question of 
Santa Claus. This joy has almost disappeared, for 
we have torn away the last shred of mystery about that 
personage by allowing him to be materialised in the 
Christmas shops and bazaars. 

But the original myth need never have disappeared ; 
the link could easily have been kept by gradually 
telling the child that the Santa Claus they worshipped 
as a mysterious and invisible power is nothing but 
the Spirit of Charity and Kindness that makes us 
remember others, and that this spirit often takes the 
form of material gifts. We can also lead them a step 
higher and show them that this spirit of kindness can 
do more than provide material things; so that the 
old nursery tale has laid a beautiful foundation which 
need never be pulled up : we can build upon it and 
add to it all through our lives. 

Is not one of the reasons that children reject Fairy 
Tales because such very poor material is offered them ? 
There is a dreary flatness about all except the very 
best which revolts the child of literary appreciation 
and would fail to strike a spark in the more prosaic. 



■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■iBI 



MEMORY OR IMPROVISATION m 

Question IV. Do I recommend learning a story by 
heart, or telling it in one's own words ? 

This would largely depend on the kind of story. 
If the style is classic or if the interest of the story is 
closely connected with the style, as in Andersen, 
Kipling or Stevenson, then it is better to commit it 
absolutely to memory. But if this process should 
take too long (I mean for those who cannot afford the 
time to specialise), or if it produces a stilted effect, 
then it is wiser to read the story many times over, let 
it soak in, taking notes of certain passages which 
would add to the dramatic interest of the story, and 
not trouble about the word accuracy of the whole. 

For instance, for very young children the story of 
Pandora, as told in the Wonder-Book, could be 
shortened so as to leave principally the dramatic 
dialogue between the two children, which would be 
easily committed to memory by the narrator and 
would appeal most directly to the children. Again, for 
older children : in taking a beautiful mediaeval story 
such as " Our Lady's Tumbler," the original text 
could hardly be presented so as to hold an audience ; 
but whilst giving up a great deal of the elaborate 
material, we should try to present many of the charac- 
teristic passages which seem to sum up the situation. 
For instance, before his performance, the Tumbler 
cries : " What am I doing ? For there is none here 
so caitiff but who vies with all the rest in serving God 
after his trade." And after his act of devotion : 
" Lady, this is a choice performance. I do it for no 
other but for you ; so aid me God, I do not — for you 
and for your Son. And this I dare avouch and boast, 
that for me it is no play-work. But I am serving you, 
and that pays me." 

On the other hand, there are some very gifted 



124 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 

narrators who can only tell the story in their own 
words. I consider that both methods are necessary 
to the all-round story-teller. 

Question V. How do I set about preparing a story ? 

Here again the preparation depends a great deal on 
the kind of story : whether it has to be committed to 
memory or re-arranged to suit a certain age of child, 
or told entirely in one's own words. But there is one 
kind of preparation which is the same for any story, 
that is, living with it for a long time, until you have 
really obtained the right atmosphere, and then bring- 
ing the characters actually to life in this atmosphere, 
most especially in the case of inanimate objects. This 
is where Hans C. Andersen reigns supreme. Horace 
Scudder says of him : " By some transmigration, 
souls have passed into tin soldiers, balls, tops, money- 
pigs, coins, shoes and even such attenuated things as 
darning-needles, and when, in forming these apparent 
dead and stupid bodies, they begin to make manifes- 
tations, it is always in perfect consistency with the 
ordinary conditions of the bodies they occupy, though 
the several objects become, by the endowment of 
souls, suddenly expanded in their capacity." 1 

Now, my test of being ready with such stories is 
whether I have ceased to look upon such objects as 
inanimate. Let us take some of those quoted from 
Andersen. First, the Tin Soldier. To me, since I 
have lived in the story, he is a real live hero, holding 
his own with some of the bravest fighting heroes in 
history or fiction. As for his being merely of tin, I 
entirely forget it, except when I realise against what 
odds he fights, or when I stop to admire the wonderful 
way Andersen carries out his simile of the old tin 

1. From " Study of Hans C. Andersen." 



MVMM^HHHMM^H 



PREPARING A STORY 125 

spoon — the stiffness of the musket, and the tears of 
tin. 

Take the Top and the Ball, and, except for the 
delightful way they discuss the respective merits of 
cork and mahogany in their ancestors, you would 
completely forget that they are not real human beings 
with the live passions and frailties common to youth. 

As for the Beetle — who ever thinks of him as a 
mere entomological specimen ? Is he not the symbol 
of the self-satisfied traveller who learns nothing en 
route but the importance of his own personality ? 
And the Darning-Needle ? It is impossible to divorce 
human interest from the ambition of this little piece of 
steel. 

And this same method applied to the preparation of 
any story shows that you can sometimes rise from the 
role of mere interpreter to that of creator — that is to 
say, the objects live afresh for you in response to the 
appeal you make in recognising their possibilities of 
vitality. 

As a mere practical suggestion, I would advise that, 
as soon as you have overcome the difficulties of the 
text (if actually learning by heart, there is nothing 
but the drudgery of constant repetition), and as you 
begin to work the story into true dramatic form, 
always say the words aloud, and many times aloud, 
before you try them even on one person. More 
suggestions come to one in the way of effects from 
hearing the sounds of the words, and more complete 
mental pictures, in this way than any other ... it is 
a sort of testing period, the results of which may or 
may not have to be modified when produced in public 
. ... In case of committing to memory, I advise 
word perfection first, not trying dramatic effects before 
this is reached ; but, on the other hand, if you are 



126 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 

using your own words, you can think out the effects 
as you go along — I mean, during the preparation. 
Gestures, pauses, facial expression often help to fix 
the choice of words you decide to use, though here 
again the public performance will often modify the 
result. I should strongly advise that all gestures 
should be studied before the glass, because this most 
faithfully-recording friend, whose sincerity we dare 
not question, will prevent glaring errors, and also help 
by the correction of these to more satisfactory results 
along positive lines. If your gesture does not satisfy 
(and practice will make make you more and more 
critical), it is generally because you have not made 
sufficient allowance for the power of imagination in 
your audience. Emphasis in gesture is just as 
inartistic — and therefore ineffective — as emphasis in 
tone or language. 

Before deciding, however, either on the facial 
expression or gesture, we must consider the chief 
characters in the story, and study how we can best — 
not present them, but allow them to present them- 
selves, which is a very different thing. The greatest 
tribute which can be paid to a story-teller, as to an 
actor, is that his own personality is temporarily 
forgotten, because he has so completely identified 
himself with his role. 

When we have decided what the chief characters 
really mean to do, we can let ourselves go in the 
impersonation .... 

I shall now take a story as a concrete example — 
namely, the Buddhist legend of the Lion and the 
Hare, 1 which I give in the final story list. 

We have here the Lion and the Hare as types — the 
other animals are less individual and therefore display 

1. See " Eastern Stories and Fables," published by Routledge. 






HOW TO PREPARE 127 

less salient qualities. The little hare's chief charac- 
teristics are nervousness, fussiness and misdirected 
imagination. We must bear this all in mind when 
she appears on the stage — fortunately these charac- 
teristics lend themselves easily to dramatic representa- 
tion. The lion is not only large-hearted but 
broad-minded. It is good to have an opportunity of 
presenting to the children a lion who has other 
qualities than physical beauty or extraordinary 
strength. (Here again there will lurk the danger of 
alarming the Nature students !) He is even more 
interesting than the magnanimous lion whom we 
have sometimes been privileged to meet in fiction. 

Of course we grown-up people know that the lion 
is the Buddha in disguise. Children will not be able 
to realise this, nor is it the least necessary that they 
should do so; but they will grasp the idea that he is 
a very unusual lion, not to be met with in Paul du 
Chaillu's adventures, still less in the quasi-domestic 
atmosphere of the Zoological Gardens. If our pre- 
sentation is life-like and sincere, we shall convey all 
we intend to the child. This is part of what I call 
the atmosphere of the story, which, as in a photograph, 
can only be obtained by long exposure, that is to say, 
in case of the preparation we must bestow much 
reflection and sympathy. 

Because these two animals are the chief characters, 
they must stand out in sharp outline : the other 
animals must be painted in fainter colours— they 
should be suggested rather than presented in detail. 
It might be as well to give a definite gesture to the 
Elephant — say, a characteristic movement with his 
trunk — a scowl to the Tiger, a supercilious and 
enigmatic smile to the Camel (suggested by Kipling's 
wonderful creation). But if a gesture were given to 



128 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 

each of the animals, the effect would become monoto- 
nous, and the minor characters would crowd the 
foreground of the picture, impeding the action and 
leaving little to the imagination of the audience .... 
I personally have found it effective to repeat the 
gestures of these animals as they are leaving the stage, 
less markedly, as it is only a form of reminder. 

Now, what is the impression we wish to leave on 
the mind of the child, apart from the dramatic joy and 
interest we have endeavoured to provide ? Surely it 
is that he may realise the danger of a panic. One 
method of doing this (alas ! a favourite one still) is 
to say at the end of the story : " Now, children, what 
do we learn from this?" Of this method Lord 
Morley has said : " It is a commonplace to the wise, 
and an everlasting puzzle to the foolish, that direct 
inculcation of morals should invariably prove so 
powerless an instrument — so futile a method." 

If this direct method were really effective, we might 
as well put the little drama aside, and say plainly : 
" It is foolish to be nervous; it is dangerous to make 
loose statements. Large-minded people understand 
things better than those who are narrow-minded." 

Now, all these abstract statements would be as true 
and as tiresome as the multiplication-table. The child 
might or might not fix them in his mind, but he would 
not act upon them. 

But, put all the artistic warmth of which you are 
capable into the presentation of the story, and, without 
one word of comment from you, the children will feel 
the dramatic intensity of that vast concourse of 
animals brought together by the feeble utterance of 
one irresponsible little hare. Let them feel the dignity 
and calm of the Lion, which accounts for his authority ; 
his tender but firm treatment of the foolish little Hare ; 



HtaMi It lHl U4l It flMlUftK nM< 



THE WRONG TIME FOR QUESTIONS 129 

and listen to the glorious finale when all the animals 
retire convinced of their folly ; and you will find that 
you have adopted the same method as the Lion (who 
must have been an unconscious follower of Froebel), 
and that there is nothing to add to the picture. 

Question VI. Is it wise to talk over a story with 
children and to encourage them in the habit of 
asking questions about it ? 

At the time, no ! The effect produced is to be by 
dramatic means, and this would be destroyed by any 
attempts at analysis by means of questions. 

The medium that has been used in the telling of the 
story is (or ought to be) a purely artistic one which 
will reach the child through the medium of the 
emotions : the appeal to the intellect or the reason is 
a different method, which must be used at a different 
time. When you are enjoying the fragrance of a 
flower or the beauty of its colour, it is not the moment 
to be reminded of its botanical classification. Just as 
in the botany lesson it would be somewhat irrelevant 
to talk of the part that flowers play in the happiness 
of life. 

From a practical point of view, it is not wise to 
encourage questions on the part of the children, 
because they are apt to disturb the atmosphere by 
bringing in entirely irrelevant matter, so that in 
looking back on the telling of the story, the child 
often remembers the irrelevant conversation to the 
exclusion of the dramatic interest of the story itself. 1 

I remember once making what I considered at the 
time a most effective appeal to some children who had 
been listening to the story of the Little Tin Soldier, 
and, unable to refrain from the cheap method of 

1. See Chapter I. 



i 3 o QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 

questioning, of which I have now recognised the 
futility, I asked : " Don't you think it was nice of the 
little dancer to rush down into the fire to join the brave 
little soldier? " " Well," said a prosaic little lad of 
six: "I thought the draught carried her down." 
Question VII. Is it wise to call upon children to 
repeat the story as soon as it has been told ? 

My answer here is decidedly in the negative. 

Whilst fully appreciating the modern idea of 
children expressing themselves, I very much deprecate 
this so-called self-expression taking the form of mere 
reproduction. I have dealt with this matter in detail 
in another portion of my book. This is one of the 
occasions when children should be taking in, not 
giving out. (Even the most fanatic of moderns must 
agree that there are such moments.) 

When, after much careful preparation, an expert 
has told a story to the best of his ability, to encourage 
the children to reproduce this story with their imper- 
fect vocabulary and with no special gift of speech (I 
am always alluding to the normal group of children) 
is as futile as if, after the performance of a musical 
piece by a great artist, some individual member of 
the audience were to be called upon to give his 
rendering of the original rendering. The result would 
be that the musical joy of the audience would be 
completely destroyed and the performer himself would 
share in the loss. 1 

I have always maintained that five minutes of 
complete silence after the story would do more to fix 
the impression on the mind of the child than any 
amount of attempts at reproducing it. The general 

1. In this matter I have, in England, the support of Dr. Kimmins, 
Chief Inspector of the London County Council, who is strongly- 
opposed to immediate reproduction of the stories. 



THE LIMITS OF ILLUSTRATION 131 

statement made in Dr. Montessori's wonderful chapter 
on Silence would seem to me of special application to 
the moments following on the telling of a story. 

Question VIII, Should children be encouraged to 
illustrate the stories which they have heard ? 

As a dramatic interest to the teachers and the 
children, I think it is a very praiseworthy experiment, 
if used somewhat sparingly. But I seriously doubt 
whether these illustrations in any way indicate the 
impression made on the mind of the child. It is the 
same question that arises when that child is called 
upon (or expresses a wish) to reproduce the story in 
his own words : the unfamiliar medium in both 
instances makes it almost impossible for the child to 
convey his meaning, unless he be an artist in the one 
case or have real literary power of expression in 
the other. 

My own impression, which has been confirmed by 
many teachers who have made the experiment, is that 
a certain amount of disappointment is mixed up with 
the daring joy in the attempt, simply because the 
children can get nowhere near the ideal which has 
presented itself to the " inner eye." 

I remember a Kindergarten mistress saying that on 
one occasion, when she had told to the class a thrilling 
story of a knight, -one of the children immediately 
asked for permission to draw a picture of him on the 
blackboard. So spontaneous a request could not, of 
course, be refused, and, full of assurance, the would-be 
artist began to give his impression of the knight's 
appearance. When the picture was finished, the child 
stood back for a moment to judge for himself of the 
result. He put down the chalk and said sadly : "And 
I thought he was so handsome." 



132 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 

Nevertheless, except for the drawback of the other 
children seeing a picture which might be inferior to 
their own mental vision, I should quite approve of 
such experiments as long as they are not taken as 
literal data of what the children have really received. 
It would, however, be better not to have the picture 
drawn on a blackboard but at the child's private desk, 
to be seen by the teacher and not, unless the picture 
were exceptionally good, to be shown to the other 
children. 

One of the best. effects of such an experiment would 
be to show a child how difficult it is to give the 
impression he wishes to record, and which would 
enable him later on to appreciate the beauty of such 
work in the hands of a finished artist. 

I can anticipate the jeers with which such remarks 
would be received by the Futurist School, but, accord- 
ing to their own theory, I ought to be allowed to 
express the matter as I see it, however faulty the vision 
may appear to them. 1 

Question IX. In what way can the dramatic method 
of story-telling be used in ordinary class teach- 
ing? 

This is too large a question to answer fully in so 
general a survey as this work, but I should like to give 
one or two concrete examples as to how the element 
of story-telling could be introduced. 

I have always thought that the only way in which 
we could make either a history or literature lesson 

1. Needless to say that these remarks only refer to the illustra- 
tions of stories told. Whether children should be encouraged to 
self-expression in drawing (quite apart from reproducing in one 
medium what has been conveyed to them in another), is too large a 
question to deal with in this special work on Story-Telling. 



STORY-TELLING IN THE CLASSROOM 133 

live, so that it should take a real hold on the mind of 
the pupil at any age, would be that, instead of offering 
lists of events, crowded into the fictitious area of one 
reign, one should take a single event, say in one lesson 
out of five, and give it in the most splendid language 
and in the most dramatic (not to be confused with 
" melodramatic ") manner. 

To come to a concrete example : Supposing that 
you are talking to the class of Greece, either in 
connection with its history, its geography or its 
literature, could any mere accumulation of facts give 
a clearer idea of the life of the people than a dramati- 
cally told story from Homer, ^Eschylus, Sophocles or 
Euripides ? 

What in the history of Iceland could give a more 
graphic idea of the whole character of the life and 
customs of the inhabitants than one of the famous 
sagas, such as "The Burning of Njal " or "The 
Death of Gunnar " ? 

In teaching the history of Spain, what could make 
the pupils understand better the spirit of knight- 
errantry, its faults and its qualities, than a recital from 
" Don Quixote " or from the tale of " The Cid " ? 

In a word, the stories must appeal so vividly to the 
imagination that they will light up the whole period 
of history which we wish them to illustrate, and keep 
it in the memory for all time. 

But apart from the dramatic presentation of history, 
there are great possibilities for introducing the short 
story into the portrait of some great personage : a 
story which, though it may be insignificant in itself, 
throws a sudden sidelight on his character, and reveals 
the mind behind the actual deeds ; this is what I mean 
by using the dramatic method. 

To take a concrete example : Supposing, in giving 



nniiiinnifinrfnTTM 



134 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 

an account of the life of Napoleon, after enlarging 
on his campaigns, his European policy, his indomit- 
able will, you were suddenly to give an idea of his 
many-sidedness by relating how he actually found 
time to compile a catechism which was used for some 
years in the elementary schools in France ! 

What sidelights might be thrown in this way on 
such characters as Nero, Caesar, Henry VIII, Luther, 
Goethe ! 

To take one example from these : Instead of making 
the whole career of Henry VIII centre round the fact 
that he was a much-married man, could we not present 
his artistic side and speak of his charming contribu- 
tions to music ? . . . . 

So much for the history lessons. But could not 
the dramatic form and interest be introduced into our 
geography lessons? Think of the romance of the 
Panama Canal, the position of Constantinople as 
affecting the history of Europe, the shape of Greece, 
England as an Island, the position of Tibet, the 
interior of Africa — to what wonderful story-telling 
would these themes lend themselves ! 

Question X. Which should predominate in the story 
— the dramatic or the poetic element? 

This is a much debated point. From experience, 
I have come to the conclusion that, though both 
should be found in the whole range of stories, the 
dramatic element should prevail from the very nature 
of the presentation, and also because it reaches the 
larger number of children (at least of normal children). 
Almost every child is dramatic, in the sense that he 
loves action (not necessarily an action in which he has 
to bear a part). It is the exceptional child who is 
reached by the poetic side, and just as on the stage 



»"«■ ' • i 



DRAMATIC OR POETIC ELEMENT 135 

the action must be quicker and more concentrated 
than in a poem — even than a dramatic poem — so it 
must be with the story. Children act out in their 
imagination the dramatic or actable part of the story — 
the poetical side, which must be painted in more 
delicate colours or presented in less obvious form, 
often escapes them. Of course the very reason why 
we must include the poetical element is that it is an 
unexpressed need of most children. Their need of 
the dramatic is more loudly proclaimed and more 
easily satisfied. 

Question XL What is the educational value of 
Humour in the stories told to our children ? 

My answer to this is that Humour means much 
more than is usually understood by this term. So 
many people seem to think that to have a sense of 
humour is merely to be tickled by a funny element 
in a story. It surely means something much more 
subtle than this. It is Thackeray who says : " If 
Humour only meant Laughter . . . but the Humourist 
professes to awaken and direct your love, your pity, 
your kindness, your scorn for untruth and pretention, 
your tenderness for the weak, the poor, the oppressed, 
the unhappy." So that, in our stories, the introduc- 
tion of humour should not merely depend on the 
doubtful amusement that follows on a sense of incon- 
gruity. It should inculcate a sense of proportion 
brought about by an effort of imagination : it shows 
a child its real position in the Universe, and prevents 
an exaggerated idea of his own importance. It 
develops the logical faculty, and prevents hasty 
conclusions. It shortens the period of joy in horse- 
play and practical jokes. It brings about a clearer 
perception of all situations, enabling the child to get 



136 QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS 

the point of view of another person. It is the first 
instilling of philosophy into the mind of a child, and 
prevents much suffering later on when the blows of 
life fall upon him ; for a sense of humour teaches us 
at an early age not to expect too much ; and this 
philosophy can be developed without cynicism or 
pessimism, without even destroying the joie de vivre . . 

One cannot, however, sufficiently emphasize the 
fact that these far-reaching results can only be brought 
about by humour quite distinct from the broader fun 
and hilarity which have also their use in an educa- 
tional scheme. 

From my own experience, I have learned that 
development of Humour is with most children 
extremely slow. It is quite natural and quite right 
that at first pure fun, obvious situations and elemen- 
tary jokes should " please them, but we can very 
gradually appeal to something more subtle, and if I 
were asked what story would educate our children 
most thoroughly in appreciation of Humour, I should 
say that "Alice in Wonderland " was the most 
effective. 

What better object-lesson could be given in 
humorous form of taking somebody else's point of 
view than that given to Alice by the Mock Turtle in 
speaking of the Whiting ? : 

" ' You know what they're like ? ' 

"■ ' I believe so,' said Alice. ' They have their tails 
in their mouths — and they're all over crumbs.' 

" ' You're wrong about the crumbs,' said the Mock 
Turtle. ' Crumbs would all wash off in the sea.' " 

Or when Alice is speaking to the Mouse of her Cat, 
and says : " She is such a dear quiet thing — and a 
capital one for catching mice " and then suddenly 



infiinuuuuiiTinuiiiii 



A SENSE OF HUMOUR 137 

realises the point of view of the Mouse, who was 
" trembling down to the end of its tail." 

Then, as an instance of how a lack of humour leads 
to illogical conclusions (a condition common to most 
children), we have the conversation between Alice and 
the Pigeon : 

Alice : " But little girls eat quite as much as 
serpents do, you know." 

Pigeon : '• I don't believe it. But if they do, why 
then they're a kind of serpent, that's all I can say." 

Then, as an instance of how a sense of humour 
would prevent too much self-importance : 

" ' I have a right to think,' said Alice sharply. 

"'Just about as much right," said the Duchess, 
? as pig's have to fly.' " 



CHAPTER VIII. 

Stories in Full. 

The following three stories have for so long formed 
a part of my repertory that I have been requested to 
include them in my book, and, in order to associate 
myself more completely with them, I am presenting 
a translation of my own from the original Danish 
version. 

The Nightingale. 

You must know that in China the Emperor is a 
Chinaman, and all those around him are also China- 
men. It is many years since all this happened, and 
for that very reason it is worth hearing, before it is 
forgotten. 

There was no palace in the world more beautiful 
than the Emperor's; it was very costly, all of fine 
porcelain, but it was so delicate and brittle, that it 
was very difficult to touch, and you had to be very 
careful in doing so. The most wonderful flowers 
could be seen in the garden, and silver tinkling bells 
were tied on to the most beautiful of these, for fear 
people should pass by without noticing them. How 
well everything had been thought out in the Emperor's 
garden — which was so big, that even the gardener 
himself did not know how big. If you walked on 
and on you came to the most beautiful wood, with tall 
trees and deep lakes. This wood stretched right down 
to the sea, which was blue and deep ; great ships could 
pass underneath the branches, and in these branches 

138 



mifuwimw 



THE NIGHTINGALE 139 

a nightingale had made its home, and its singing was 
so entrancing that the poor fisherman, though he had 
so many other things to do, would lie still and listen 
when he was out at night drawing in his nets. 

" Heavens ! how lovely that is ! " he said : but then 
he was forced to think about his own affairs, and the 
nightingale was forgotten ; but the next day, when it 
sang again, the fisherman said the same thing : 
" Heavens ! how lovely that is ! " 

Travellers from all the countries of the world came 
to the Emperor's town, and expressed their admiration 
for the palace and the garden, but when they heard 
the nightingale, they all said in one breath : " That 
is the best of all ! " 

Now, when these travellers came home, they told of 
what they had seen. The scholars wrote many books 
about the town, the palace and the garden, but 
nobody left the nightingale out : it was always spoken 
of as the most wonderful of all they had seen, and 
those who had the gift of the Poet wrote the most 
delightful poems all about the nightingale in the wood 
near the deep lake. 

The books went round the world, and in course of 
time some of them reached the Emperor. He sat in 
his golden chair, and read and read, nodding his head 
every minute ; for it pleased him to read the beautiful 
descriptions of the town, the palace and the garden ; 
and then he found in the book the following words : 
" But the Nightingale is the best of all." 

"What is this?" said the Emperor. "The 
nightingale ! I know nothing whatever about it. 
To think of there being such a bird in my Kingdom — 
nay, in my very garden — and I have never heard it ! 
And one has to learn of such a thing for the first time 
from a book ! ' ' 



140 STORIES IN FULL 

Then he summoned his Lord-in- Waiting, who was 
such a grand creature that if any one inferior in rank 
ventured to speak to him, or ask him about anything, 
he merely uttered the sound "P," which meant 
nothing whatever. 

" There is said to be a most wonderful bird, called 
the Nightingale," said the Emperor; "they say it is 
the best thing in my great Kingdom. Why have I 
been told nothing about it?" 

" I have never heard it mentioned before," said the 
Lord-in- Waiting. " It has certainly never been 
presented at court." 

"It is my good pleasure that it shall appear here 
to-night and sing before me ! " said the Emperor. 
The whole world knows what is mine, and I myself 
do not know it." 

" I have never heard it mentioned before," said the 
Lord-in- Waiting. " I will seek it, and I shall find it." 

But where was it to be found ? The Lord-in- 
Waiting ran up and down all the stairs, through the 
halls and the passages, but not one of all those whom 
he met had ever heard a word about the Nightingale. 
The Lord-in- Waiting ran back to the Emperor and 
told him that it must certainly be a fable invented by 
writers of books. 

" Your Majesty must not believe all that is written 
in books. It is pure invention, besides something 
which is called the Black Art." 

"But," said the Emperor, "the book in which I 
read this was sent to me by His Majesty the Emperor 
of Japan, and therefore this cannot be a falsehood. 
I insist on hearing the Nightingale : it must appear 
this evening. It has my gracious favour, and if it 
fails to appear, the court shall be trampled upon after 
the court has supped." 



HPWMMHHMMflttnM 



THE NIGHTINGALE 141 

" Tsing-pe ! " said the Lord-in- Waiting, and again 
he ran up and down all the stairs, through all the halls 
and passages, and half the court ran with him, for 
they had no wish to be trampled upon. And many 
questions were asked about the wonderful Nightingale 
of whom all had heard except those who lived at court. 

At last, they met a poor little girl in the kitchen. 
She said : " Heavens ! The Nightingale ! I know 
it well ! Yes, how it can sing ! Every evening I 
have permission to take the broken pieces from the 
table to my poor sick mother who lives near the 
seashore, and on my way back, when I feel tired and 
rest a while in the wood, then I hear the Nightingale 
sing, and my eyes are filled with tears : it is just as 
if my mother kissed me." 

"Little kitchen-girl," said the Lord-in-Waiting, 
" I will get a permanent position for you in the Court 
Kitchen and permission to see the Emperor dine, if 
you can lead us to the Nightingale; for it has received 
orders to appear at Court to-night." 

So they started off all together for the wood where 
the bird was wont to sing : half the court went too. 
They were going along at a good pace when suddenly 
they heard a cow lowing. 

"Oh," said a court-page. "There you have it. 
That is a wonderful power for so small a creature ! 
I have certainly heard it before." 

" No, those are the cows lowing," said the little 
kitchen girl. " We are a long way from the place 
yet." 

And then the frogs began to croak in the pond. 

"Beautiful," said the Court Preacher. "Now, I 
hear it — it is just like little church bells." 

" No, those are the frogs," said the little Kitchen 
maid. " But now I think that we shall soon hear it." 



i 4 2 STORIES IN FULL 

And then the Nightingale began to sing. 

"There it is," said the little girl. " Listen, listen- 
there it sits." And she pointed to a little grey bird 
in the branches. 

"Is it possible ! " said the Lord-in- Waiting. " I 
had never supposed it would look like that. How 
very plain it looks ! It has certainly lost its colour 
from seeing so many grand folk around it." 

"Little Nightingale," called out the little Kitchen 
girl, " our gracious Emperor would be so glad if you 
would sing for him." 

" With the greatest pleasure," said the Nightingale. 
It sang, and it was a joy to hear it. 

"Just like little glass bells," said the Lord-in- 
Waiting; "and just look at the little throat, how 
active it is ! It is astonishing to think we have never 
heard it before ! It will have a real success at Court." 

"Shall I sing for the Emperor again?" said the 
Nightingale, who thought that the Emperor was there 
in person. 

" Mine excellent little Nightingale," said the Lord- 
in-Waiting, " I have the great pleasure of bidding 
you to a Court-Festival this night, when you will 
enchant His Imperial Majesty with your delightful 
warbling." 

" My voice sounds better among the green trees," 
said the Nightingale. But it came willingly when it 
knew that the Emperor wished it. 

There was a great deal of furbishing up at the 
Palace. The walls and ceiling, which were of porce- 
lain, shone with a light of a thousand golden lamps. 
The most beautiful flowers of the tinkling kind were 
placed in the passages. There was running to and 
fro, and a thorough draught. But that is just what 
made the bells ring : one could not oneself. In the 



HHflm 



THE NIGHTINGALE 143 

middle of the large hall where the Emperor sat, a 
golden rod had been set up on which the Nightingale 
was to perch. The whole Court was present, and the 
little Kitchen-maid was allowed to stand behind the 
door, for she had now the actual title of a Court 
Kitchen Maid. All were there in their smartest 
clothes, and they all looked towards the little grey 
bird to which the Emperor nodded. 

And the Nightingale sang so delightfully that 
tears sprang into the Emperor's eyes and rolled down 
his cheeks ; and then the Nightingale sang even more 
beautifully. The song went straight to the heart, and 
the Emperor was so delighted that he declared that 
the Nightingale should have his golden slipper to 
hang round its neck. But the Nightingale declined. 
It had already had its reward. 

" I have seen tears in the Emperor's eyes. That to 
me is the richest tribute. An Emperor's tears have a 
wonderful power. God knows my reward is great 
enough," and again its sweet, glorious voice was 
heard. 

" That is the most delightful coquetting I have 
ever known," said the ladies sitting round, and they 
took water into their mouths, in order to gurgle when 
anyone spoke to them, and they really thought they 
were like the Nightingale. Even the footmen and the 
chambermaids sent word that they, too, were satisfied, 
and that means a great deal, for these are the people 
whom it is most difficult to please. There was no 
doubt as to the Nightingale's success. It was sure to 
stay at Court, and have its own cage, with liberty to 
go out twice in the daytime, and once at night. 
Twelve servants went out with it, and each held a 
silk ribbon which was tied to the bird's leg, and they 
held it very tightly. There was not much pleasure in 



i 4 4 STORIES IN FULL 

going out under those conditions. The whole town 
was talking of the wonderful bird, and when two 
people met, one said : " Nightin-" and the other said 
" gale," and they sighed and understood one another. 
Eleven cheese-mongers' children were called after the 
bird, though none of them had a note in his voice. 
One day a large parcel came for the Emperor. Out- 
side was written the word: "Nightingale." 

" Here we have a new book about our wonderful 
bird," said the Emperor. But it was not a book; it 
was a little work of art which lay in a box — an 
artificial Nightingale, which was supposed to look 
like the real one, but it was set in diamonds, rubies 
and sapphires. As soon as you wound it up, it could 
sing one of the pieces which the real bird sang, and 
its tail moved up and down and glittered with silver 
and gold. Round its neck was a ribbon on which was 
written : " The Emperor of Japan's Nightingale is 
miserable compared with the Emperor of China's." 

"That is delightful," they all said, and on the 
messenger who had brought the artificial bird they 
bestowed the title of " Imperial Nightingale-Bringer- 
in-Chief." 

(f Let them sing together, and what a duet that will 
be!" 

And so they had to sing, but the thing would not 
work, because the real Nightingale could only sing in 
its own way, and the artificial Nightingale could only 
play by clock-work. 

"That is not its fault," said the Band Master. 
" Time is its strong point, and it has quite my 
method." 

Then the artificial Nightingale had to sing alone. 
It had just as much success as the real bird, and then 
it was so much handsomer to look at : it glittered like 



nHHaBmmHBHBin 



THE NIGHTINGALE 145 

bracelets and breast-pins. It sang the same tune three 
and thirty times, and it was still not tired : the people 
would willingly have listened to the whole performance 
over again from the start. But the Emperor sug- 
gested that the real Nightingale should sing for a 
while. But where was it? Nobody had noticed that 
it had flown out of the open window back to its green 
woods. 

" But what is the meaning of all this? " said the 
Emperor. All the courtiers upbraided the Nightingale 
and said that it was a most ungrateful creature. 

" We have the better of the two," they said, and 
the artificial Nightingale had to sing again, and this 
was the thirty-fourth time they heard the same tune. 
But they did not know it properly even then, because 
it was so difficult, and the bandmaster praised the 
wonderful bird in the highest terms, and even asserted 
that it was superior to the real bird, not only as 
regarded the outside, with the many lovely diamonds, 
but also the inside as well. 

" You see, ladies and gentlemen, and above all 
your Imperial Majesty, that with the real Nightingale, 
you can never predict what may happen, but with the 
artificial bird, everything is settled upon beforehand ; 
so it remains and it cannot be changed. One can 
account for it. One can rip it open and show the 
human ingenuity, explaining how the cylinders lie, 
how they work, and how one thing is the result of 
another." 

" That is just what we think," they all exclaimed, 
and the Bandmaster received permission to exhibit 
the bird to the people on the following Sunday. The 
Emperor said they were to hear it sing. They 
listened, and were as much delighted as if they had 
been drunk with tea, which is a thoroughly Chinese 



146 STORIES IN FULL 

habit, and they all said "Oh!" and stuck their 
forefingers in the air, and nodded their heads. But 
the poor Fisherman who had heard the real Nightin- 
gale, said : " It sounds quite well, and a little like it, 
but there is something missing. I do not know what 
it is." 

The real Nightingale was banished from the 
Kingdom. The artificial bird had its place on a 
silken cushion close to the Emperor's bed. All the 
presents it had received, the gold and precious stones, 
lay all round it, and it had been honoured with the 
title of High Imperial Bedroom Singer — in the first 
rank, on the left side, for even the Emperor considered 
that side the grander on which the heart is placed, 
and even an Emperor has his heart on the left side. 
The Bandmaster wrote twenty-five volumes about the 
wonderful artificial bird. The book was very learned 
and very long, filled with the most difficult words in 
the Chinese language, and everybody said that he had 
read it and understood it, for otherwise he would have 
been considered stupid, and would have been trampled 
upon. 

And thus a whole year passed away. The Emperor, 
the Court and all the other Chinese knew every little 
gurgle in the artificial bird's song, and just for this 
reason, they were all the better pleased with it. They 
could sing it themselves — which they did. The boys 
in the street sang ft zizizi " and "cluck, cluck," and 
even the Emperor sang it. Yes, it was certainly 
beautiful. But one evening, while the bird was sing- 
ing, and the Emperor lay in bed listening to it, there 
was a whirring sound inside the bird, and something 
whizzed; all the wheels ran round, and the music 
stopped. The Emperor sprang out of bed and sent 
for the Court Physician, but what could he do ? Then 



MH 



THE NIGHTINGALE 147 

they sent for the watch-maker, and after much talk 
and examination, he patched the bird up, but he said 
it must be spared as much as possible, because the 
hammers were so worn out and he could not put new 
ones in so that the music could be counted on. This 
was a great grief. The bird could only be allowed to 
sing once a year, and even that was risky, but on these 
occasions the Bandmaster would make a little speech, 
introducing difficult words, saying the bird was as 
good as it ever had been : and that was true. 

Five years passed away, and a great sorrow had 
come over the land. The people all really cared for 
their Emperor : now he was ill and it was said he 
could not live. A new Emperor had been chosen, and 
the people stood about the streets, and questioned the 
Lord-in- Waiting about their Emperor's condition. 

" P !" he said, and shook his head. 

The Emperor lay pale and cold on his great, 
gorgeous bed : the whole Court believed that he was 
dead, and they all hastened to pay homage to the new 
Emperor. The footmen hurried off to discuss matters, 
and the chambermaids gave a great coffee party. 
Cloth had been laid down in all the rooms and 
passages, so that not a footstep should be heard and it 
was all fearfully quiet. But the Emperor was not yet 
dead. He lay stiff and pale in the sumptuous bed, 
with its long, velvet curtains, and the heavy gold 
tassels : just above was an open window, and the moon 
shone in upon the Emperor and the artificial bird. 
The poor Emperor could hardly breathe : it was as if 
something were weighing him down : he opened his 
eyes and saw it was Death, sitting on his chest, 
wearing his golden crown, holding in one hand the 
golden sword, and in the other the splendid banner : 
and from the folds of the velvet curtains strange faces 



148 STORIES IN FULL 

peered forth, some terrible to look on, others mild and 
friendly : these were the Emperor's good and bad 
deeds, which gazed upon him now that Death sat 
upon his heart. 

"Do you remember this?" whispered one after 
the other. "Do you remember that?" They told 
him so much that the sweat poured down his face. 

" I never knew that," said the Emperor. " Play 
music! music! Beat the great Chinese drum! " he 
called out, " so that I may not hear what they are 
saying ! " 

But they kept on, and Death nodded his head, like 
a Chinaman, at everything they said. 

"Music, music," cried the Emperor. "You little 
precious bird ! Sing to me, ah ! sing to me ! I have 
given you gold and costly treasures. I have hung my 
golden slipper about your neck. Sing to me. Sing 
to me! " 

But the bird stood still : there was no one to wind 
him up, and therefore he could not sing. But Death 
went on, staring at the Emperor with his great hollow 
sockets, and it was terribly still. 

Then, suddenly, close to the window, came the sound 
of a lovely song. It was the little live Nightingale 
which perched on the branches outside. It had heard 
of its Emperor's plight, and had therefore flown hither 
to bring him comfort and hope, and as he sang, the 
faces became paler and the blood coursed more freely 
through the Emperor's weak body, and Death himself 
listened and said : " Go on, little Nightingale. Go 
on." 

"And will you give me the splendid sword, and the 
rich banner and the Emperor's crown ? " 

And Death gave all these treasures for a song. And 
still the Nightingale sang on. He sang of the quiet 



wwamrmMmmmMMmmw^Ka^m 



THE NIGHTINGALE 149 

churchyard, where the white roses grow, where the 
Elder flowers bloom, and where the grass is kept moist 
by the tears of the survivors, and there came to Death 
such a longing to see his garden, that he floated out 
of the window, in the form of a white, cold mist. 

" Thank you, thank you," said the Emperor. "You 
heavenly little bird, I know you well ! I banished you 
from the land, and you have charmed away the evil 
spirits from my bed, and you have driven Death from 
my heart. How shall I reward you ? " 

"You have rewarded me," said the Nightingale. 
" I received tears from your eyes the first time I sang, 
and I never forget that. These are jewels which touch 
the heart of the singer. But sleep now, that you may 
wake fresh and strong. I will sing to you," and it 
sang, and the Emperor fell into a sweet sleep. The 
sun shone in upon him through the window, and lie 
woke feeling strong and healthy. None of his ser- 
vants had come back, because they thought he was 
dead ; but the Nightingale was still singing. 

" You will always stay with me," said the Emperor. 
" You shall only sing when it pleases you, and I will 
break the artificial Nightingale into a thousand 
pieces." 

" Do not do that," said the Nightingale. " It has 
done the best it could. Keep it with you. I cannot 
build my nest in a palace, but let me come just as I 
please. I will sit on the branch near the window, and 
sing to you that you may be joyful and thoughtful too. 
I will sing to you of the happy folk, and of those that 
suffer ; I will sing of the evil and of the good,- which 
is being hidden from you. The little singing bird 
flies hither and thither, to the poor fisherman, to the 
peasant's hut, to many who live far from you and the 
Court. Your heart is dearer to me than your crown, 



150 STORIES IN FULL 

and yet the crown has a breath of sanctity too. I will 
come; I will sing to you, but one thing you must 
promise." 

"All that you ask," said the Emperor and stood 
there in his imperial robes which he had put on 
himself, and held the heavy golden sword on his heart. 

" I beg you, let no one know that you have a little 
bird who tells you everything. It will be far better 
thus," and the Nightingale flew away. 

The servants came to look upon their dead Emperor : 
they stood there and the Emperor said " Good 
morning." 

(From Hans. C. Andersen, translated from the 
Danish by Marie L. Shedlock.) 

The Swineherd. 

There was once upon a time a needy prince. He 
owned a Kingdom — a very small one, but it was large 
enough to support a wife, and he made up his mind 
to marry. Now, it was really very bold on his part 
to say of the King's daughter : " Will you marry 
me?" But he dared to do so, for his name was 
known far and wide, and there were hundreds of 
princesses who would willingly have said : " Yes, 
with thanks." But, whether she would say so, was 
another matter. We shall hear what happened. 

On the grave of the Prince's father there grew a 
rose-tree — such a wonderful rose-tree ! It only 
bloomed once in five years, and then it only bore one 
rose — but what a rose ! Its perfume was so sweet that 
whoever smelt it forgot all his cares and sorrows. The 
Prince had also a Nightingale which could sing as if 
all the delicious melodies in the world were contained 
in its little throat. The rose and the Nightingale were 
both to be given to the Princess and were therefore 



THE vSWINEHERD 151 

placed in two silver cases and sent to her. The 
Emperor had them carried before him into the great 
hall where the Princess was playing at "visiting" 
with her ladies-in-waiting. This was their chief 
occupation ; and when she saw the great cases with 
the presents in them, she clapped her hands with joy. 

"If it were only a little pussy-cat," she cried. But 
out came the beautiful rose. 

" How elegantly it is made," said all the ladies of 
the Court. 

" It is more than elegant," said the Emperor; " it 
is nice." 

" Fie, papa," she said, " it is not made at all; it is 
a natural rose." 

"Fie," said all the ladies of the court; "it is a 
natural rose." 

" Let us see what the other case contains before we 
lose our temper," said the Emperor, and then out 
came the little Nightingale and sang so sweetly that 
nobody right off could think of any bad thing to say 
of it . 

" Superbe, charmant," cried the ladies of the Court, 
for they all chattered French, one worse than the 
other. 

" How the bird reminds me of the late Empress' 
musical-box!" said an old Lord-in- Waiting. "Ah 
me ! The same tone, the same execution " 

" The very same," said the Emperor, and he cried 
like a little child. 

" I hope it is not a real bird," said the Princess. 

"Oh yes; it is a real bird," said those who had 
brought it. 

" Then let the bird fly away," she said, and she 
would on no account allow the Prince to come in. 

But he was not to be discouraged. He smeared his 



152 STORIES IN FULL 

face with black and brown, drew his cap over his 
forehead, and knocked at the Palace door. The 
Emperor opened it. 

'■ Good day, Emperor," he said. " Could I not get 
some work at the Palace ? ' ' 

"There are so many who apply for positions here !" 
said the Emperor. " Now let me see : I am in want 
of a swineherd. I have a good many pigs to keep." 

So the Prince was appointed as Imperial Swine- 
herd. He had a wretched little room near the pig-sty 
and here he was obliged to stay. But the whole day 
he sat and worked, and by the evening he had made a 
neat little pipkin, and round it was a set of bells, and 
as soon as the pot began to boil, the bells fell to 
jingling most sweetly and played the old melody : 

" Ah, my dear Augustus, 
All is lost, all is lost; " 

but the most wonderful thing was that when you held 
your finger in the steam of the pipkin, you could 
immediately smell what dinner was cooking on every 
hearth in the town — that was something very different 
from a rose. 

The Princess was walking out with her ladies-in- 
Waiting, and when she heard the melody, she stopped 
short, and looked much rejoiced, for she could play 
"Ah, my dear Augustus." That was the only tune 
she knew, but she could play it with one finger. 
" Why, that is what I can play," she said. " What 
a cultivated swineherd he must be. Go down and ask 
him how much his instrument costs." 

So one of the Ladies-in- Waiting was obliged to go 
down, but she put on pattens first. 

"What do you charge for your instrument?" 
asked the Lady-in- Waiting. 



DBiBiiB^nnBHHi 



THE SWINEHERD 153 

" I will have ten kisses from the Princess," said 
the Swineherd. 

" Good gracious! " said the Lady-in- Waiting. 

" I will not take less," said the Swineherd. 

" Well, what did he say? " asked the Princess. 

" I really cannot tell you," said the Lady-in- 
Waiting. " It is too dreadful." 

" Then you can whisper it," said the Princess. 

So she whispered it. 

"He is very rude," said the Princess, and she 
walked away. But when she had walked a few steps 
the bells sounded so sweetly : 



Ah, my dear Augustus, 
All is lost, all is lost." 



" Listen," said the Princess, " ask him whether he 
will have his kisses from my Ladies-in- Waiting." 

" No, thank you," said the Swineherd. " I will 
have ten kisses from the Princess, or I will keep my 
pipkin." 

" How tiresome it is," said the Princess; " but you 
must stand round me, so that nobody shall see." 

So the Ladies-in-Waiting stood round her, and they 
spread out their dresses. The Swineherd got the 
kisses, and she got the pipkin. 

How delighted she was. All the evening, and the 
whole of the next day that pot was made to boil. And 
you might have known what everybody was cooking 
on every hearth in the town from the Chamberlain's 
to the shoemaker's. The court ladies danced and 
clapped their hands. 

" We know who is to have fruit, soup and pancakes. 
We know who is going to have porridge, and cutlets. 
How very interesting it is! " 



i 5 4 STORIES IN FULL 

■' Most interesting, indeed," said the first Lady-of- 
Honour. 

" Yes, but hold your tongues, because I am the 
Emperor's daughter." 

" Of course we will," they cried in one breath. 

The Swineherd, or rather the Prince, though they 
did not know but that he was a real swineherd, did 
not let the day pass without doing something, and he 
made a rattle which could play all the waltzes and the 
polkas and the hop-dances which had been known 
since the creation of the world. 

" But this is superb," said the Princess, who was 
just passing : " I have never heard more beautiful 
composition. Go and ask him the cost of the instru- 
ment. But I will give no more kisses." 

" He insists on a hundred kisses from the Princess," 
said the Ladies-in- Waiting who had been down to ask. 

" I think he must be quite mad," said the Princess, 
and she walked away. But when she had taken a few 
steps, she stopped short, and said : " One must 
encourage the fine arts, and I am the Emperor's 
daughter. Tell him he may have ten kisses, as before, 
and the rest he can take from my Ladies-in-Waiting." 

" Yes, but we object to that," said the Ladies-in- 
Waiting. 

" That is nonsense," said the Princess. " If I can 
kiss him, surely you can do the same. Go down at 
once. Don't I pay you board and wages? " 

So the Ladies-in-Waiting were obliged to go down 
to the Swineherd again. 

"A hundred kisses from the Princess, or each keeps 
his own." 

" Stand round me," she said. And all the Ladies- 
in-Waiting stood round her, and the Swineherd began 
to kiss her. 



THE SWINEHERD 155 

" What can all that crowd be down by the pig- 
sty ? " said the Emperor, stepping out on to the 
balcony. He rubbed his eyes and put on his specta- 
cles. " It is the court-ladies up to some of their tricks. 
I must go down and look after them." He pulled up 
his slippers (for they were shoes which he had trodden 
down at the heel). 

Heavens ! How he hurried ! As soon as he came 
into the garden he walked very softly, and the Ladies- 
in- Waiting had so much to do counting the kisses, so 
that everything should be done fairly, and that the 
Swineherd should neither get too many nor too few, 
that they never noticed the Emperor at all. He stood 
on tiptoe. 

"What is this all about? " he said, when he saw 
the kissing that was going on, and he hit them on the 
head with his slipper, just as the Swineherd was 
getting the eighty-sixth kiss. " Heraus," said the 
Emperor, for he was angry, and both the Princess and 
the Swineherd were turned out of his Kingdom. 

The Princess wept, the Swineherd scolded, and the 
rain streamed down. 

"Ah! wretched creature that I am," said the 
Princess. "If I had only taken the handsome Prince ! 
Ah me, how unhappy I am ! " 

Then the Swineherd went behind a tree, washed the 
black and brown off his face, threw off his ragged 
clothes, and stood forth in his royal apparel, looking 
so handsome that she was obliged to curtsey. 

" I have learned to despise you," he said. " You 
would not have an honourable Prince. You could 
not appreciate a rose or a Nightingale, but to get a toy, 
you kissed the Swineherd. Now you have your 
reward." 



156 STORIES IN FULL 

So he went into his Kingdom, shut the door and 
bolted it, and she had to stand outside singing : 

" Ah, you dear Augustus, 
All, all is lost." 

(From the Danish of Hans C. Andersen, trans- 
lated by Marie L. Shedlock,) 



The Princess and the Pea. 

There was once a Prince who wished to marry a 
Princess, but she must be a real Princess. He 
travelled all over the world to find such a one; but 
there was always something the matter. There were 
plenty of Princesses, but whether they were real or 
not, he could not be quite certain. There was always 
something that was not quite right. So he came 
home again, feeling very sad, for he was so anxious 
to have a real Princess. 

One evening a terrible storm came on : it lightened, 
and thundered and the rain came down in torrents. 
It was quite terrible. Then there came a knocking at 
the town-gate, and the old King went down to open 
it. There, outside, stood a Princess. But gracious ! 
the rain and bad weather had made her look dreadful. 
The water was running out of her hair on to her 
clothes, into the tips of her shoes and out at the heels, 
and yet she saicT she was a real Princess. 

" We shall soon find out about that," thought the 
old Queen. But she said never a word. She went 
into the bedroom, took off all the bed-clothes and put 
a pea on the bedstead. Then she took twenty 
mattresses and laid them on the pea and twenty eider- 



THE STORY OF STURLA 157 

down quilts upon the mattresses. And the Princess 
was to sleep there at night. 

In the morning they came to her and asked her how 
she had slept. 

" Oh ! dreadfully," said the Princess. " I scarcely 
closed my eyes the whole night long. Heaven knows 
what could have been in the bed. I have lain upon 
something hard, so that my whole body is black and 
blue. It is quite dreadful." 

So they could see now that she was a real Princess, 
because she had felt the pea through twenty mattresses 
and twenty eider-down quilts. Nobody but a real 
Princess could be so sensitive. 

So the Prince married her, for now he knew that he 
had found a real Princess, and the pea was sent to an 
Art Museum, where it can still be seen, if nobody has 
taken it away. 

Now, mark you : This is a true story. 

(Translated from the Danish of Hans C. Andersen 
by Marie L. Shedlock.) 



I give the following story, quoted by Professor Ker 
in his Romanes Lecture, 1906, as an encouragement to 
those who develop the art of story-telling. 

The Story of Sturla. 

Then Sturla got ready to sail away with the king, 
and his name was put on the list. He went on board 
before many men had come ; he had a sleeping bag 
and a travelling chest, and took his place on the 
fore-deck. A little later the king came on to the quay, 



158 STORIES IN FULL 

and a company of men with him. Sturla rose and 
bowed, and bade the king ' hail,' but the king 
answered nothing, and went aft along the ship to the 
quarter-deck. They sailed that day to go south along 
the coast. But in the evening when men unpacked 
their provisions Sturla sat still, and no one invited 
him to mess. Then a servant of the king's came and 
asked Sturla if he had any meat and drink. Sturla 
said ' No.' Then the king's servant went to the king 
and spoke with him, out of hearing : and then went 
forward to Sturla and said : " You shall go to mess 
with Thorir Mouth and Erlend Maw." They took 
him into their mess, but rather stiffly. When men 
were turning in to sleep, a sailor of the king's asked 
who should tell them stories. There was little answer. 
Then he said : " Sturla the Icelander, will you tell 
stories?" "As you will," said Sturla. So he told 
them the story of Huld, better and fuller than any one 
there had ever heard it told before. Then many men 
pushed forward to the fore-deck, wanting to hear as 
clearly as might be, and there was a great crowd. The 
queen asked : " What is that crowd on deck there ? " 
A man answered : " The men are listening to the 
story that the Icelander tells." "What story is that ?" 
said she. He answers : " It is about a great troll- 
wife, and it is a good story and well told." The king 
bade her pay no heed to that, and go to sleep. She 
says : " I think this Icelander must be a good fellow, 
and less to blame than he is reported." The king 
was silent. 

So the night passed, and the next morning there 
was no wind for them, and the king's ship lay in the 
same place. Later in the day, when men sat at their 
drink, the king sent dishes from his table to Sturla. 
Sturla's messmates were pleased with this : " You 



THE STORY OF STURLA 159 

bring better luck than we thought, if this sort of thing 
goes on." After dinner the queen sent for Sturla and 
asked him to come to her and bring the troll-wife story 
along with him. So Sturla went aft to the quarter- 
deck, and greeted the king and queen. The king 
answered little, the queen well and cheerfully. She 
asked him to tell the same story he had told overnight. 
He did so, for a great part of the day. When he had 
finished, the queen thanked him, and many others 
besides, and made him out in their minds to be a 
learned man and sensible. But the king said nothing ; 
only he smiled a little. Sturla thought he saw that 
the king's whole frame of mind was brighter than the 
day before. So he said to the king that he had made 
a poem about him, and another about his father : " I 
would gladly get a hearing for them." The queen 
said : " Let him recite his poem ; I am told that he is 
the best of poets, and his poem will be excellent." 
The king bade him say on, if he would, and repeat 
the poem he professed to have made about him. 
Sturla chanted it to the end. The queen said : " To 
my mind that is a good poem." The king said to 
her: "Can you follow the poem clearly?" "I 
would be fain to have you think so, Sir," said the 
queen. The king said : " I have learned that Sturla 
is good at verses." Sturla took his leave of the king 
and queen and went to his place. There was no 
sailing for the king all that day. In the evening 
before he went to bed he sent for Sturla. And when 
he came he greeted the king and said : " What will 
you have me to do, Sir?" The king called for a 
silver goblet full of wine, and drank some and gave 
it to Sturla and said : "A health to a friend in wine !" 
(Vin skal til vinar drekka.) Sturla said: "God be 
praised for it ! " "Even so," says the king, "and 



160 STORIES IN FULL 

now I wish you to say the poem you have made about 
my father." Sturla repeated it: and when it was 
finished men praised it much, and most of all the 
queen. The king said : "To my thinking, you are 
a better reciter than the Pope." 

Sturlunga Saga, vol. ii, pp. 269 sqq. 

A Saga. 

In the grey beginnings of the world, or ever the 
flower of justice had rooted in the heart, there lived 
among the daughters of men two children, sisters, of 
one house. 

In childhood did they leap and climb and swim 
with the men children of their race, and were nurtured 
on the same stories of gods and heroes. 

In maidenhood they could do all that a maiden 
might and more — delve could they no less than spin, 
hunt no less than weave, brew pottage and helm ships, 
wake the harp and tell the stars, face all danger and 
laugh at all pain. 

Joyous in toil-time and rest-time were they as the 
days and years of their youth came and went. Death 
had spared their house, and unhappiness knew they 
none. Yet often as at falling day they sat before 
sleep round the hearth of red fire, listening with the 
household to the brave songs of gods and heroes, 
there would surely creep into their hearts a shadow — 
the thought that whatever the years of their lives, and 
whatever the generous deeds, there would for them, as 
women, be no escape at the last from the dire mists 
of Hela, the fogland beyond the grave for all such as 
die not in battle; no escape for them from Hela, and 
no place for ever for them or for their kind among 
the glory-crowned, sword-shriven heroes of echoing 
Valhalla. 



A SAGA 161 

That shadow had first fallen in their lusty child- 
hood, had slowly gathered darkness through the 
overflowing days of maidenhood, and now, in the 
strong tide of full womanhood, often lay upon their 
future as the moon in Odin's wrath lies upon the sun. 

But stout were they to face danger and laugh at 
pain, and for all the shadow upon their hope they 
lived brave and songful days — the one a homekeeper 
and in her turn a mother of men ; the other unhus- 
banded, but gentle to ignorance and sickness and 
sorrow through the width and length of the land. 

And thus, facing life fearlessly and ever with a 
smile, those two women lived even unto extreme old 
age, unto the one's children's children's children, 
labouring truly unto the end and keeping strong 
hearts against the dread day of Hela, and the fate- 
locked gates of Valhalla. 

But at the end a wonder. 

As these sisters looked their last upon the sun, the 
one in the ancestral homestead under the eyes of love, 
the other in a distant land among strange faces, 
behold the wind of Thor, and out of the deep of 
heaven the white horses of Odin, All-Father, bearing 
Valkyrie, shining messengers of Valhalla. And those 
two world-worn women, faithful in all their lives, were 
caught up in death in divine arms and borne far from 
the fogs of Hela to golden thrones among the battle 
heroes, upon which the Nornir, sitting at the loom of 
life, had from all eternity graven their names. 

And from that hour have the gates of Valhalla 
been thrown wide to all faithful endeavour whether of 
man or of women. 

John Russell, 
Headmaster of the King Alfred School. 



i6a STORIES IN FULL 

The Legend of St. Christopher. 

Christopher was of the lineage of the Canaaneans 
and he was of a right great stature, and had a terrible 
and fearful cheer and countenance. And he was 
twelve cubits of length. And, as it is read in some 
histories, when he served and dwelled with the king 
of Canaaneans, it came in his mind that he would 
seek the greatest prince that was in the world and him 
he would serve and obey. 

And so far he went that he came to a right great 
king, of whom the renown generally was that he was 
the greatest of the world. And when the king saw 
him he received him into his service and made him 
to dwell in his court. 

Upon a time a minstrel sang before him a song in 
which he named oft the devil. And the king which 
was a Christian man, when he heard him name the 
devil, made anon the sign of the cross in his visage. 
And when Christopher saw that, he had great marvel 
what sign it was and wherefore the king made it. 
And he demanded it of him. And because the king 
would not say, he said, " If thou tell me not, I shall 
no longer dwell with thee." And then the king told 
to him saying, "Alway when I hear the devil named, 
I fear that he should have power over me, and I 
garnish me with this sign that he grieve not nor annoy 
me." Then Christopher said to him, "Thou doubtest 
the devil that he hurt thee not? Then is the devil 
more mighty and greater than thou art. I am then 
deceived of my hope and purpose ; for I supposed that 
I had found the most mighty and the most greatest 
lord of the world. But I commend thee to God, for I 
will go seek him to be my lord and I his servant." 

And then he departed from this king and hasted 
him to seek the devil. And as he went by a great 



ST. CHRISTOPHER'S STORY 163 

desert he saw a great company of knights. Of which 
a knight cruel and horrible came to him and demanded 
whither he went. And Christopher answered to him 
and said, " I go to seek the devil for to be my master." 
And he said, " I am he that thou seekest." And then 
Christopher was glad and bound himself to be his 
servant perpetual, and took him for his master and 
lord. 

And as they went together by a common way, they 
found there a cross erect and standing. And anon 
as the devil saw the cross, he was afeard and fled, and 
left the right way and brought Christopher about by 
a sharp desert, and after, when they were past the 
cross, he brought him to the highway that they had 
left. And when Christopher saw that, he marvelled 
and demanded whereof he doubted that he had left 
high and fair way and had gone so far about by so 
hard desert. And the devil would not tell to him in 
no wise. Then Christopher said to him, " If thou 
wilt not tell me I shall anon depart from thee and 
shall serve thee no more." Therefore the devil was 
constrained to tell him, and said, " There was a man 
called Christ which was hanged on the cross, and 
when I see his sign, I am sore afeard and flee from it 
wheresomever I find it." To whom Christopher said, 
" Then he is greater and more mightier than thou, 
when thou art afraid of his sign. And I see well that 
I have laboured in vain since I have not founden the 
greatest lord of all the earth. And I will serve thee 
no longer. Go thy way then : for I will go seek Jesus 
Christ." 

And when he had long sought and demanded where 
he should find Christ, at the last he came into a great 
desert to an hermit that dwelled there. And this 
hermit preached to him of Jesus Christ and informed 



164 STORIES IN FULL 

him in the faith diligently. And he said to him, 
" This king whom thou desirest to serve, requireth 
this service that thou must oft fast." And Christopher 
said to him, " Require of me some other thing and I 
shall do it. For that which thou requirest I may not 
do." And the hermit said, "Thou must then wake 
and make many prayers." And Christopher said to 
him, " I wot not what it is. I may do no such thing." 
And then the hermit said unto him, " Knowest thou 
such a river in which many be perished and lost? " 
To whom Christopher said, " I know it well." Then 
said the hermit, " Because thou art noble and high of 
stature and strong in thy members, thou shalt be 
resident by that river and shalt bear over all them that 
shall pass there. Which shall be a thing right 
convenable to Our Lord Jesus Christ, whom thou 
desirest to serve, and I hope He shall shew Himself 
to thee." Then said Christopher, "Certes, this service 
may I well do, and I promise to Him for to do it." 

Then went Christopher to this river, and made 
there his habitation for him. And he bare a great 
pole in his hand instead of a staff, by which he 
sustained him in the water; and bare over all manner 
of people without ceasing. And there he abode, thus 
doing many days. 

And on a time, as he slept in his lodge, he heard 
the voice of a child which called him and said, 
" Christopher, come out and bear me over." Then 
he awoke and went out ; but he found no man. And 
when he was again in his house, he heard the same 
voice, and he ran out and found nobody. The third 
time he was called, and came thither, and found a 
child beside the rivage of the river : which prayed 
him goodly to bear him over the water. And then 
Christopher lift up the child on his shoulders and 



ARTHUR IN THE CAVE 165 

took his staff and entered into the river for to pass. 
And the water of the river arose and swelled more and 
more. And the child was heavy as lead. And always 
as he went further the water increased and grew more, 
and the child more and more waxed heavy : in so 
much that Christopher had great anguish and feared 
to be drowned. And when he was escaped with great 
pain and passed the water, and set the child aground, 
he said to the child, " Child, thou hast put me in 
great peril. Thou weighest almost as I had had all 
the world upon me. I might bear no greater burden." 
And the child answered, " Christopher, marvel thou 
no thing. For thou hast not only borne all the world 
upon thee ; but thou hast borne Him that created and 
made all the world upon thy shoulders. I am Jesus 
Christ, the King to whom thou servest in this work. 
And that thou mayest know that I say to thee truth, 
set thy staff in the earth by the house, and thou shalt 
see to-morrow that it shall bear flowers and fruit." 
And anon he vanished from his eyes. 

And then Christopher set his staff in the earth and 
when he arose on the morrow, he found his staff like 
a palm-tree bearing flowers, leaves and dates. 

Arthur in the Cave. 

Once upon a time a Welshman was walking on 
London Bridge, staring at the traffic and wondering 
why there were so many kites hovering about. He 
had come to London, after many adventures with 
thieves and highwaymen, which need not be related 
here, in charge of a herd of black Welsh cattle. He 
had sold them with much profit, and with jingling 
gold in his pocket he was going about to see the 
sights of the city. 

He was carrying a hazel staff in his hand, for you 



166 STORIES IN FULL 

must know that a good staff is as necessary to a drover 
as teeth are to his dogs. He stood still to gaze at 
some wares in a shop (for at that time London Bridge 
was shops from beginning to end), when he noticed 
that a man was looking at his stick with a long fixed 
look. The man after a while came to him and asked 
him where he came from. 

" I come from my own country," said the Welsh- 
man, rather surlily, for he could not see what business 
the man had to ask such a question. 

r ' Do not take it amiss," said the stranger : " if you 
will only answer my questions, and take my advice, it 
will be greater benefit to you than you imagine. Do 
you remember where you cut that stick? " 

The Welshman was still suspicious, and said : 
" What does it matter where I cut it? " 

"It matters," said the questioner, "because there 
is a treasure hidden near the spot where you cut that 
stick. If you can remember the place and conduct 
me to it, I will put you in possession of great riches." 

The Welshman now understood he had to deal with 
a sorcerer, and he was greatly perplexed as to what 
to do. On the one hand, he was tempted by the 
prospect of wealth ; on the other hand, he knew that 
the sorcerer must have derived his knowledge from 
devils, and he feared to have anything to do with the 
powers of darkness. The cunning man strove hard 
to persuade him, and at length made him promise to 
shew the place where he cut his hazel staff. 

The Welshman and the magician journeyed together 
to Wales. They went to Craig y Dinas, the Rock of 
the Fortress, at the head of the Neath valley, near 
Pont Nedd Fechan, and the Welshman, pointing to 
the stock or root of an old hazel, said : " This is where 
I cut my stick." 



ARTHUR IN THE CAVE 167 

" Let us dig," said the sorcerer. They digged until 
they came to a broad, flat stone. Prising this up, 
they found some steps leading downwards. They 
went down the steps and along a narrow passage until 
they came to a door. "Are you brave? " asked the 
sorcerer, " will you come in with me? " 

" I will," said the Welshman, his curiosity getting 
the better of his fear. 

They opened the door, and a great cave opened out 
before them. There was a faint red light in the cave, 
and they could see everything. The first thing they 
came to was a bell. 

" Do not touch that bell," said the sorcerer, "or it 
will be all over with us both." 

As they went further in, the Welshman saw that 
the place was not empty. There were soldiers lying 
down asleep, thousands of them, as far as ever the 
eye could see. Each one was clad in bright armour, 
the steel helmet of each was on his head, the shining 
shield of each was on his arm, the sword of each was 
near his hand, each had his spear stuck in the ground 
near him, and each and all were asleep. 

In the midst of the cave was a great round table at 
which sat warriors whose noble features and richly- 
dight armour proclaimed that they were not as the 
roll of common men. 

Each of these, too, had his head bent down in sleep. 
On a golden throne on the further side of the round 
table was a king of gigantic stature and august 
presence. In his hand, held below the hilt, was a 
mighty sword with scabbard and haft of gold studded 
with gleaming gems; on his head was a crown set 
with precious stones which flashed and glinted like 
so many points of fire. Sleep had set its seal on his 
eyelids also. 



168 STORIES IN FULL 

"Are they asleep?" asked the Welshman, hardly 
believing his own eyes. " Yes, each and all of 
them," answered the sorcerer. " But, if you touch 
yonder bell, they will all awake." 

" How long have they been asleep? " 

" For over a thousand years." 

"Who are they?" 

"Arthur's warriors, waiting for the time to come 
when they shall destroy all the enemy of the Cymry 
and repossess the strand of Britain, establishing their 
own king once more at Caer Lleon." 

" Who are these sitting at the round table? " 

" These are Arthur's knights — Owain, the son of 
Urien ; Cai, the son of Cynyr ; Gnalchmai, the son of 
Gwyar ; Peredir, the son of Efrawe ; Geraint, the son 
of Erbin ; Trystan, the son of March ; Bedwyr, the 
son of Bedrawd ; Ciernay, the son of Celyddon ; 
Edeyrn, the son of Nudd ; Cymri, the son of Clydno." 

"And on the golden throne? " broke in the Welsh- 
man. 

" Is Arthur himself, with his sword Excalibur in 
his hand," replied the sorcerer. 

Impatient by this time at the Welshman's questions, 
the sorcerer hastened to a great heap of yellow gold 
on the floor of the cave. He took up as much as he 
could carry, and bade his companion do the same. 
" It is time for us to go," he then said, and he led 
the way towards the door by which they had entered. 

But the Welshman was fascinated by the sight of 
the countless soldiers in their glittering arms — all 
asleep. 

" How I should like to see them all awaking ! " he 
said to himself. " I will touch the bell — I must see 
them all arising from their sleep." 

When they came to the bell, he struck it until it 
rang through the whole place. As soon as it rang, 



ARTHUR IN THE CAVE 169 

lo ! the thousands of warriors leapt to their feet and 
the ground beneath them shook with the sound of the 
steel arms. And a great voice came from their midst : 
" Who rang the bell? Has the day come ? " 

The sorcerer was so much frightened that he shook 
like an aspen leaf. He shouted in answer : " No, the 
day has not come. Sleep on." 

The mighty host was all in motion, and the Welsh- 
man's eyes were dazzled as he looked at the bright 
steel arms which illumined the cave as with the light 
of myriad flames of fire. 

"Arthur," said the voice again, "awake; the bell 
has rung, the day is breaking. Awake, Arthur the 
Great." 

" No," shouted the sorcerer, "it is still night. 
Sleep on, Arthur the Great." 

A sound came from the throne. Arthur was stand- 
ing, and the jewels in his crown shone like bright stars 
above the countless throng. His voice was strong 
and sweet like the sound of many waters, and he said : 

" My warriors, the day has not come when the 
Black Eagle and the Golden Eagle shall go to war. 
It is only a seeker after gold who has rung the bell. 
Sleep on, my warriors ; the morn of Wales has not 
yet dawned." 

A peaceful sound like the distant sigh of the sea 
came over the cave, and in a trice the soldiers were all 
asleep again. The sorcerer hurried the Welshman 
out of the cave, moved the stone back to its place and 
vanished. 

Many a time did the Welshman try to find his way 
into the cave again, but though he dug over every 
inch of the hill, he has never again found the entrance 
to Arthur's Cave. 

From "The Welsh Fairy Book," by W. Jenkyn 
Thomas. Fisher Unwin. 



170 STORIES IN FULL 

Hafiz the Stone-cutter. 

There was once a stone-cutter whose name was 
Hafiz, and all day long he chipped, chipped, chipped 
at his block. And often he grew very weary of his 
task and he would say to himself impatiently, " Why 
should I go on chip-chip-chipping at my block ? Why 
should I not have pleasure and amusement as other 
folk have?" 

One day, when the sun was very hot and when he 
felt specially weary, he suddenly heard the sound of 
many feet, and, looking up from his work, he saw a 
great procession coming his way. It was the King, 
mounted on a splendid charger, all his soldiers to the 
right, in their shining armour, and the servants to the 
left, dressed in gorgeous clothing, ready to do his 
behests. 

And Hafiz said : " How splendid to be a King ! If 
only I could be a King, if only for ten minutes, so 
that I might know what it feels like! " And then, 
even as he spoke, he seemed to be dreaming, and in 
his dream he sang this little song : 

Ah me ! Ah me ! 

If Hafiz only the King could be ! 

And then a voice from the air around seemed to 
answer him and to say : 

Be thou the King. 

And Hafiz became the King, and he it was that sat 
on the splendid charger, and they were his soldiers 
to the right and his servants to the left. And Hafiz 
said : " I am King, and there is no one stronger in 
the whole world than I." 

But soon, in spite of the golden canopy over his 

1. The melody to be crooned at first and to grow louder at each 
incident. 



vSTORY OF HAFIZ 171 

head, Hafiz began to feel the terrible heat of the rays 
of the sun, and soon he noticed that the soldiers and 
servants were weary, that his horse drooped, and that 
he, Hafiz, was overcome, and he said angrily : 
" What ! Is there something stronger in the world 
than a King?" And, almost without knowing ft, 
he again sang his song — more boldly than the first 
time : 

Ah me ! Ah me ! 

If Hafiz only the Sun could be ! 

And the Voice answered : 

Be thou the Sun 

And Hafiz became the Sun, and shone down upon 
the Earth, but, because he did not know how to shine 
very wisely, he shone very fiercely, so that the crops 
dried up, and folk grew sick and died. And then 
there arose from the East a little cloud which slipped 
between Hafiz and the Earth, so that he could no 
longer shine down upon it, and he said : "Is there 
something stronger in the world than the Sun? " 

Ah me ! Ah me ! 

If Hafiz only the Cloud could be! 

And the Voice said : 

Be thou the cloud. 

And Hafiz became the Cloud 5 and rained down 
water upon the Earth, but, because he did not know 
how to do so wisely, there fell so much rain that all 
the little rivulets became great rivers, and all the great 
rivers overflowed their banks, and carried everything 
before them in swift torrent — all except one great rock 
which stood unmoved. And Hafiz said : "Is there 
something stronger than the Cloud?" 

Ah me ! Ah me ! 

If Hafiz only the Rock could be ! 



172 STORIES IN FULL 

And the Voice said : • 

Be thou the Rock. 

And Hafiz became the Rock, and the Cloud dis- 
appeared and the waters went down. 

And Hafiz the Rock saw coming towards him a 
man — but he could not see his face. As the man 
approached he suddenly raised a hammer and struck 
Hafiz, so that he felt it through all his stony body. 
And Hafiz said : " Is there something stronger in the 
world than the Rock ? 

Ah me ! Ah me ! 

If Hafiz only that man might be ! 

And the Voice said : 

Be thou— Thyself. 

And Hafiz seized the hammer and said : 
" The Sun was stronger than the King, the Cloud 
was stronger than the Sun, the Rock was stronger 
than the Cloud, but I, Hafiz, was stronger than all." 
Adapted and arranged for narration by M. C. S. 

To Your Good Health. 
{From the Russian.) 

Long long ago there lived a King who was such a 
mighty monarch that whenever he sneezed everyone 
in the whole country had to say, " To your good 
health ! " Everyone said it except the Shepherd with 
the bright blue eyes, and he would not say it. 

The King heard of this and was very angry, and 
sent for the Shepherd to appear before him. 

The Shepherd came and stood before the throne, 
where the King sat looking very grand and powerful. 
But, however grand or powerful he might be, the 
Shepherd did not feel a bit afraid of him. 



THE OBSTINATE SHEPHERD 173 

" Say at once, ' To my good health ! ' " cried the 
King. 

"To my good health," replied the Shepherd. 

"To mine — to mine, you rascal, you vagabond! " 
stormed the King. 

" To mine, to mine, Your Majesty," was the answer. 

" But to mine — to my own ! " roared the King, and 
beat on his breast in a rage. 

" Well, yes; to mine, of course, to my own," cried 
the Shepherd, and gently tapped his breast. 

The King was beside himself with fury and did 
not know what to do, when the Lord Chamberlain 
interfered : 

" Say at once — say this very moment, ' To your 
health, Your Majesty,' for if you don't say it you 
will lose your life," he whispered. 

" No, I won't say it till I get the Princess for my 
wife," was the Shepherd's answer. 

Now the Princess was sitting on a little throne beside 
the King her father, and she looked as sweet and 
lovely as a little golden dove. When she heard what 
the Shepherd said, she could not help laughing, for 
there is no denying the fact that this young shepherd 
with the blue eyes pleased her very much ; indeed, he 
pleased her better than any king's son she had yet 
seen. 

But the King was not as pleasant as his daughter, 
and he gave orders to throw the Shepherd into the 
white bear's pit. 

The guards led him away and thrust him into the 
pit with the white bear, who had had nothing to eat 
for two days and was very hungry. The door of the 
pit was hardly closed when the bear rushed at the 
Shepherd ; but when it saw his eyes it was so frightened 
that it was ready to eat itself. It shrank away into a 



i 7 4 STORIES IN FULL 

corner and gazed at him from there, and in spite of 
being so famished, did not dare to touch him, but 
sucked its own paws from sheer hunger. The 
Shepherd felt that if he once removed his eyes off 
the beast he was a dead man, and in order to keep 
himself awake he made songs and sang them, and so 
the night went by. 

Next morning the Lord Chamberlain came to see 
the Shepherd's bones, and was amazed to find him 
alive and well. He led him to the King, who fell 
into a furious passion, and said : 

" Well, you have learned what it is to be very near 
death, and now will you say, ' To my very good 
health'?" 

But the Shepherd answered : 

"I am not afraid of ten deaths ! I will only say it 
if I may have the Princess for my wife." 

"Then go to your death," cried the King, and 
ordered him to be thrown into the den with the wild 
boars. 

The wild boars had not been fed lor a week, and 
when the Shepherd was thrust into their den they 
rushed at him to tear him to pieces. But the Shepherd 
took a little flute out of the sleeve of his jacket, and 
began to play a merry tune, on which the wild boars 
first of all shrank shyly away, and then got up on 
their hind legs and danced gaily. The Shepherd 
would have given anything to be able to laugh, they 
looked so funny ; but he dared not stop playing, for 
he knew well enough that the moment he stopped 
they would fall upon him and tear him to pieces. 
His eyes were of no use to him here, for he could not 
have stared ten wild boars in the face at once ; so he 
kept on playing, and the wild boars danced very 
slowly, as if in a minuet; then by degrees he played 



THE OBSTINATE vSHEPHERD 175 

faster and faster, till they could hardly twist and turn 
quickly enough, and ended by all falling over each 
other in a heap, quite exhausted and out of breath. 

Then the Shepherd ventured to laugh at last; and 
he laughed so long and so loud that when the Lord 
Chamberlain came early in the morning, expecting to 
find only his bones, the tears were still running down 
his cheeks from laughter. 

As soon as the King was dressed the Shepherd was 
again brought before him ; but he w r as more angry 
than ever to think the wild boars had not torn the 
man to bits, and he said : 

" Well, you have learned what it feels to be near 
ten deaths, now say ' To my good health ! ' " 

But the Shepherd broke in with : 

" I do not fear a hundred deaths; and 1 will only 
say it if I may have the Princess for my wife." 

" Then go to a hundred deaths ! " roared the King, 
and ordered the Shepherd to be thrown down the deep 
vault of scythes. 

The guards dragged him away to a dark dungeon, 
in the middle of which was a deep well with sharp 
scythes all round it. At the bottom of the well was 
a little light by which one could see, if anyone was 
thrown in, whether he had fallen to the bottom. 

When the Shepherd was dragged to the dungeon 
he begged the guards to leave him alone a little while 
that he might look down into the pit of scythes; 
perhaps he might after all make up his mind to say, 
" To your good health " to the King. 

So the guards left him alone, and he stuck up his 
long stick near the wall, hung his cloak round the 
stick and put his hat on the top. He also hung his 
knapsack up beside the cloak, so that it might seem 
to have some body within it. When this was done, 



i 7 6 STORIES IN FULL 

he called out to the guards and said that he had 
considered the matter, but after all he could not make 
up his mind to say what the King wished. 

The guards came in, threw the hat and cloak, 
knapsack and stick all down in the well together, 
watched to see how they put out the light at the 
bottom, and came away, thinking that now there was 
really an end of the Shepherd. But he had hidden in 
a dark corner, and was now laughing to himself all 
the time. 

Quite early next morning came the Lord Cham- 
berlain with a lamp, and he nearly fell backwards with 
surprise when he saw the Shepherd alive and well. 
He brought him to the King, whose fury was greater 
than ever, but who cried : 

" Well, now you have been near a hundred deaths; 
will you say, ' To your good health ' ? " 

But the Shepherd only gave the same answer : 

" I won't say it till the Princess is my wife." 

" Perhaps after all you may do it for less," said the 
King, who saw that there was no chance of making 
away with the Shepherd ; and he ordered the state 
coach to be got ready ; then he made the Shepherd 
get in with him and sit beside him, and ordered the 
coachman to drive to the silver wood. 

When they reached it, he said : 

" Do you see this silver wood? Well, if you will 
say, ' To your good health,' I will give it to you." 

The Shepherd turned hot and cold by turns, but he 
still persisted : 

" I will not say it till the Princess is my wife." 

The King was much vexed ; he drove further on 
till they came to a splendid castle, all of gold, and 
then he said : 

" Do you see this golden castle? Well, I will give 



THE OBSTINATE SHEPHERD 177 

you that too, the silver wood and the golden castle, 
if only you will say that one thing to me : ' To your 
good health.' " 

The Shepherd gaped and wondered, and was quite 
dazzled, but he still said : 

" No, I will not say it till 1 have the Princess for my 
wife." 

This time the King was overwhelmed with grief, 
and gave orders to drive on to the diamond pond, and 
there he tried once more : 

" You shall have them all — all, if you will but say, 
' To your good health.' " 

The Shepherd had to shut his staring eyes tight not 
to be dazzled with the brilliant pond, but still he said : 

" No, no; I will not say it till I have the Princess 
for my wife." 

Then the King saw that all his efforts were useless, 
and that he might as well give in ; so he said : 

" Well, well, it is all the same to me — I will give 
you my daughter to wife ; but then you really and 
truly must say to me, ' To your good health.' " 

"Of course I'll say it; why should I not say it? 
It stands to reason that I shall say it then." 

At this the King was more delighted than anyone 
could have believed. He made it known to all 
through the country that there were going to be great 
rejoicings, as the Princess was going to be married. 
And everyone rejoiced to think that the Princess who 
had refused so many royal suitors, should have ended 
by falling in love with the staring-eyed Shepherd. 

There was such a wedding as had never been seen. 
Everyone ate and drank and danced. Even the sick 
were feasted, and quite tiny new-born children had 
presents given them. But the greatest merry-making 
was in the King's palace ; there the best bands played 



i 7 8 STORIES IN FULL 

and the best food was cooked. A crowd of people sat 
down to table, and all was fun and merry-making. 

And when the groomsman, according to custom, 
brought in the great boar's head on a big dish and 
placed it before the King, so that he might carve it 
and give everyone a share, the savoury smell was so 
strong that the King began to sneeze with all his 
might. 

" To your very good health ! " cried the Shepherd 
before anyone else, and the King was so delighted 
that he did not regret having given him his daughter. 

In time, when the old King died, the Shepherd 
succeeded him. He made a very good king, and 
never expected his people to wish him well against 
their wills : but, all the same, everyone did wish him 
well, because they loved him. 

The Proud Cock. 

There was once a cock who grew so dreadfully proud 
that he would have nothing to say to anybody. He 
left his house, it being far beneath his dignity to have 
any trammel of that sort in his life, and as for his 
former acquaintances, he cut them all. 

One day, whilst walking about, he came to a few 
little sparks of fire which were nearly dead. 

They cried out to him : " Please fan us with your 
wings, and we shall come to the full vigour of life 
again." 

But he did not deign to answer, and as he was going 
away, one of the sparks said : "Ah well ! we shall die, 
but our big brother the Fire will pay you out for this 
one day." 

On another day he was airing himself in a meadow, 
showing himself off in a very superb set of clothes. 



THE PROUD COCK 179 

A voice calling from somewhere said : " Please be so 
good as to drop us into the water again." 

He looked about and saw a few drops of water : 
they had got separated from their friends in the river, 
and were pining away with grief. " Oh ! please be 
so good as to drop us into the water again," they 
said ; but, without any answer, he drank up the drops. 
He was too proud and a great deal too big to talk 
to a poor little puddle of water ; but the drops said : 
" Our big brother the Water will one day take you 
in hand, you proud and senseless creature." 

Some days afterwards, during a great storm of rain, 
thunder and lightning, the cock took shelter in a little 
empty cottage, and shut to the door ; and he thought : 
" I am clever; I am in comfort. What fools people 
are to stop out in a storm like this ! What's that?" 
thought he. "I never heard a sound like that before." 

In a little while it grew much louder, and when a 
few minutes had passed, it was a perfect howl. 
"Oh!" thought he, "this will never do. I must 
stop it somehow. But what is it I have to stop ? ' ' 

He soon found it was the wind, shouting through 
the keyhole, so he plugged up the keyhole with a bit 
of clay, and then the wind was able to rest. He was 
very tired with whistling so long through the keyhole, 
and he said : " Now, if ever I have at any time a 
chance of doing a good turn to that princely domestic 
fowl, I will do it." 

Weeks afterwards, the cock looked in at a house 
door : he seldom went there, because the miser to 
whom the house belonged almost starved himself, and 
so, of course, there was nothing over for anybody else. 

To his amazement the cock saw the miser bending 
over a pot on the fire. At last the old fellow turned 



180 vSTORIES IN FULL 

round to get a spoon with which to stir his pot, and 
then the cock, walking up, looked in and saw that the 
miser was making oyster-soup, for he had found some 
oyster-shells in an ash-pit, and to give the mixture a 
colour he had put in a few halfpence in the pot. 

The miser chanced to turn quickly round, whilst 
the cock was peering into the saucepan, and, chuckling 
to himself, he said : ° I shall have some chicken broth 
after all." 

He tripped up the cock into the pot and shut the 
lid on. The bird, feeling warm , said : " Water, 
water, don't boil !" But the water only said : ft You 
drank up my young brothers once : don't ask a favour 
of me." 

Then he called out to the Fire : " Oh ! kind Fire, 
don't boil the water." But the Fire replied : " You 
once let my young sisters die : you cannot expect any 
mercy from me." So he flared up and boiled the 
water all the faster. 

At last, when the cock got unpleasantly warm, he 
thought of the wind, and called out : " Oh, Wind, 
come to my help!" and the Wind said: " Why, 
there is that noble domestic bird in trouble. I will 
help him." So he came down the chimney, blew out 
the fire, blew the lid off the pot, and blew the cock far 
away into the air, and at last settled him on a steeple, 
where the cock has remained ever since. And people 
say that the halfpence which were in the pot when it 
was boiling have given him the queer brown colour 
he still wears. From the Spanish. 

Snegourka. 

There lived once, in Russia, a peasant and his wife 
who would have been as happy as the day is long, if 
only God had given them a little child. 



THE SNOW CHILD 181 

One day, as they were watching the children 
playing in the snow, the man said to the woman : 

11 Wife, shall we go out and help the children to 
make a snowball ?" 

But the wife answered, smiling : 

" Nay, husband, but since God has given us no 
little child, let us go and fashion one from the snow." 

And she put on her long blue cloak, and he put on 
his long brown coat, and they went out onto the crisp 
snow, and began to fashion the little child. 

First they made the feet and the legs and the little 
body, and then they took a ball of snow for the head. 
And at that moment a stranger in a long cloak, with 
his hat well drawn over his face, passed that way, and 
said : " Heaven help your undertaking ! " 

And the peasants crossed themselves and said : " It 
is well to ask help from Heaven in all we do." 

Then they went on fashioning the little child. And 
they made two holes for the eyes and formed the nose 
and the mouth. And then — wonder of wonders — the 
little child came alive, and breath came into its nostrils 
and parted lips. 

And the man was afeared, and said to his wife : 
" What have we done ? " 

And the wife said : " This is the little girl child 
God has sent us." And she gathered it into her arms, 
and the loose snow fell away from the little creature. 
Her hair became golden and her eyes were as blue 
as forget-me-nots — but there was no colour in her 
cheeks, because there was no blood in her veins. 

In a few days she was like a child of three or four, 
and in a few weeks she seemed to be the age of nine 
or ten, and ran about gaily and prattled with the other 
children, who loved her so dearly, though she was so 
different from them. 



182 STORIES IN FULL 

Only, happy as she was, and dearly as her parents 
loved her, there was one terror in her life, and that 
was the sun. And during the day she would run and 
hide herself in cool, damp places away from the 
sunshine, and this the other children could not under- 
stand. 

As the Spring advanced and the days grew longer 
and warmer, little Snegourka (for this was the name 
by which she was known) grew paler and thinner, and 
her mother would often ask her : " What ails you, 
my darling? " and Snegourka would say : " Nothing 
Mother, but I wish the sun were not so bright." 

One day, on St. John's Day, the children of the 
village came to fetch her for a day in the woods, and 
they gathered flowers for her and did all they could 
to make her happy, but it was only when the great red 
sun went down that Snegourka drew a deep breath of 
relief and spread her little hands out to the cool 
evening air. And the boys, glad at her gladness, 
said : " Let us do something for Snegourka. Let us 
light a bonfire." And Snegourka, not knowing what 
a bonfire was, she clapped her hands and was as merry 
and eager as they. And she helped them gather the 
sticks, and then they all stood round the pile and the 
boys set fire to the wood. 

Snegourka stood watching the flames and listening 
to the crackle of the wood ; and then suddenly they 
heard a tiny sound — and looking at the place where 
Snegourka had been standing, they saw nothing but 
a little snowdrift fast melting. And they called and 
called, " Snegourka ! Snegourka ! " thinking she had 
run into the forest. But there was no answer. 
Snegourka had disappeared from this life as mys- 
teriously as she had come into it. 

From the Russian, adapted for narration by M.T.S. 



THE WATER NIXIE 183 

The Water Nixie. 

The river was so clear because it was the home of 
a very beautiful Water Nixie who lived in it, and who 
sometimes could emerge from her home and sit in 
woman's form upon the bank. She had a dark green 
smock upon her, the colour of the water-weed that 
waves as the water wills it, deep, deep down. And in 
her long wet hair were the white flowers of the water- 
violet, and she held a reed mace in her hand. Her 
face was very sad, because she had lived a long life, 
and known so many adventures, ever since she was a 
baby, which was nearly a hundred years ago. For 
creatures of the streams and trees live a long, long 
time, and when they die they lose themselves in 
Nature. That means that they are forever clouds, or 
trees, or rivers, and never have the form of men and 
women again. 

All water creatures would live, if they might choose 
it, in the sea, where they are born. It is in the sea 
they float hand-in-hand upon the crested billows, and 
sink deep in the great troughs of the strong waves, 
that are green as jade. They follow the foam and lose 
themselves in the wide ocean : 

Where great whales come sailing by, 
Sail and sail with unshut eye; 
And they store in the Sea King's palace 
The golden phosphor of the sea. 

But this Water Nixie had lost her happiness 
through not being good. She had forgotten many 
things that had been told her, and she had done 
many things that grieved others. She had stolen 
somebody else's property — quite a large bundle of 
happiness — which belonged elsewhere and not to her. 
Happiness is generally made to fit the person who 



184 STORIES IN FULL 

owns it, just as do your shoes, or clothes ; so that 
when you take some one else's it's very little good to 
you, for it fits badly, and you can never forget it isn't 
yours. 

So what with one thing and another, this Water 
Nixie had to be punished, and the Queen of the Sea 
had banished her from the waves. The punishment 
that can most affect merfolk is to restrict their 
freedom. And this is how the Queen of the Sea 
punished the Nixie of our tale. 

" You shall live for a long time in little places, 
where you will weary of yourself. You will learn to 
know yourself so well that everything you want will 
seem too good for you, and you will cease to claim it. 
And so, in time, you shall get free." 

Then the Nixie had to rise up and go away, and be 
shut into the fastness of a very small space, according 
to the words of the Queen. And this small space 
was — a tear. 

At first she could hardly express her misery, and by 
thinking so continuously of the wideness and savour 
of the sea, she brought a dash of the brine with her, 
that makes the saltness of our tears. She became 
many times smaller than her own stature ; even then, 
by standing upright and spreading wide her arms, 
she touched with her finger-tips the walls of her tiny 
crystal home. How she longed that this tear might 
be wept, and the walls of her prison shattered. But 
the owner of this tear was of a very proud nature, and 
she was so sad that tears seemed to her in no wise 
to express her grief. 

She was a Princess who lived in a country that was 
not her home. What were tears to her ? If she could 
have stood on the top of the very highest hill and with 
both hands caught the great winds of heaven, strong- 



THE WATER NIXIE 185 

as they, and striven with them, perhaps she might 
have felt as if she expressed all she knew. Or, if she 
could have torn down the stars from the heavens, or 
cast her mantle over the sun. But tears ! Would 
they have helped to tell her sorrow ? You cry if you 
soil your copy-book, don't you? or pinch your hand? 
So you may imagine the Nixie's home was a safe one, 
and she turned round and round in the captivity of 
that tear. 

For twenty years she dwelt in that strong heart, 
till she grew to be accustomed to her cell. At last, in 
this wise came her release. 

An old gipsy came one morning to the Castle and 
begged to see the Princess. She must see her, she 
cried. And the Princess came down the steps to meet 
her, and the gipsy gave her a small roll of paper in 
her hand. And the roll of paper smelt like honey as 
she took it, and it adhered to her palm as she opened 
it. There was little sign of writing on the paper, but 
in the midst of the page was a picture, small as the 
picture reflected in the iris of an eye. The picture 
shewed a hill, with one tree on the sky-line, and a long 
road wound round the hill. 

And suddenly in the Princess' memory a voice 
spoke to her. Many sounds she heard, gathered up 
into one great silence, like the quiet there is in forest 
spaces, when it is Summer and the green is deep : 

Then the Princess gave the gipsy two golden pieces, 
and went up to her chamber, and long that night she 
sat, looking out upon the sky. 

She had no need to look upon the honeyed scroll, 
though she held it closely. Clearly before her did 
she see that small picture : the hill, and the tree, and 
the winding road, imaged as if mirrored in the iris of 
an eye. And in her memory she was upon that road, 



186 vSTORIES IN FULL 

and the hill rose beside her, and the little tree was 
outlined every twig of it against the sky. 

And as she saw all this, an overwhelming love of 
the place arose in her, a love of that certain bit of 
country that was so sharp and strong, that it stung 
and swayed her, as she leaned on the window-sill. 

And because the love of a country is one of the 
deepest loves you may feel, the band of her control 
was loosened, and the tears came welling to her eyes. 
Up they brimmed and over, in salty rush and follow, 
dimming her eyes, magnifying everything, speared for 
a moment on her eyelashes, then shimmering to their 
fall. And at last came the tear that held the dis- 
obedient Nixie. 

Splish ! it fell. And she was free. 

If you could have seen how pretty she looked 
standing there, about the height of a grass-blade, 
wringing out her long wet hair. Every bit of moisture 
she wrung out of it, she was so glad to be quit of that 
tear. Then she raised her two arms above her in one 
delicious stretch, and if you had been the size of a 
mustard-seed perhaps you might have heard her 
laughing. Then she grew a little, and grew and grew, 
till she was about the height of a bluebell, and as 
slender to see. 

She stood looking at the splash on the window-sill 
that had been her prison so long, and then, with three 
steps of her bare feet, she reached the jessamine that 
was growing by the window, and by this she swung 
herself to the ground. 

Away she sped over the dew-drenched meadows till 
she came to the running brook, and with all her 
longing in her outstretched hands, she kneeled down 
by the crooked willows among all the comfrey and the 
loosestrife, and the yellow irises and the reeds. 



THE BLUE ROSE 187 

Then she slid into the wide, cool stream. 

Pamela Tennant (Lady Glenconner). 
From " The Children and the Pictures." 

The Blue Rose. 

There lived once upon a time in China a wise 
Emperor who had one daughter. His daughter was 
remarkable for her perfect beauty. Her feet were the 
smallest in the world ; her eyes were long and slanting 
and bright as brown onyxes, and when you heard her 
laugh it was like listening to a tinkling stream or to 
the chimes of a silver bell. Moreover, the Emperor's 
daughter was as wise as she was beautiful, and she 
chanted the verse of the great poets better than anyone 
in the land. The Emperor was old in years; his son 
was married and had begotten a son ; he was, therefore, 
quite happy with regard to the succession to the 
throne, but he wished before he died to see his 
daughter wedded to someone who should be worthy 
of her. 

Many suitors presented themselves to the palace as 
soon as it became known that the Emperor desired a 
son-in-law, but when they reached the palace they were 
met by the Lord Chamberlain, who told them that the 
Emperor had decided that only the man who found 
and brought back the blue rose should marry his 
daughter. The suitors were much puzzled by this 
order. What was the blue rose and where was it to 
be found ? In all a hundred and fifty suitors had 
presented themselves, and out of these fifty at once put 
away from them all thought of winning the hand of 
the Emperor's daughter, since they considered the 
condition imposed to be absurd. 

The other hundred set about trying to find the blue 
rose. One of them, whose name was Ti-Fun-Ti, was 



188 STORIES IN FULL 

a merchant, and immensely rich : he at once went to 
the largest shop in the town and said to the shop- 
keeper, " I want a blue rose, the best you have." 

The shopkeeper with many apologies, explained 
that he did not stock blue roses. He had red roses in 
profusion, white, pink, and yellow roses, but no blue 
roses. There had hitherto been no demand for the 
article. 

"Well, ,, said Ti-Fun-Ti, " you must get one for 
me. I do not mind how much money it costs, but I 
must have a blue rose. 

The shopkeeper said he would do his best, but he 
feared it would be an expensive article and difficult to 
procure. Another of the suitors, whose name I have 
forgotten, was a warrior, and extremely brave ; he 
mounted his horse, and taking with him a hundred 
archers and a thousand horsemen, he marched into the 
territory of the King of the Five Rivers, whom he 
knew to be the richest king in the world and the 
possessor of the rarest treasures, and demanded of 
him the blue rose, threatening him with a terrible doom 
should he be reluctant to give it up. 

The King of the Five Rivers, who disliked soldiers, 
and had a horror of noise, physical violence, and every 
kind of fuss (his bodyguard was armed solely with 
fans and sunshades), rose from the cushions on which 
he was lying when the demand was made, and, 
tinkling a small bell, said to the servant who straight- 
way appeared, " Fetch me the blue rose." 

The servant retired and returned presently bearing 
on a silken cushion a large sapphire which was carved 
so as to imitate a full-blown rose with all its petals. 

" This," said the King of the Five Rivers, " is the 
blue rose. You are welcome to it." 

The warrior took it, and after making brief, soldier- 



THE BLUE ROSE 1S9 

like thanks, he went straight back to the Emperor's 
palace, saying that he had lost no time in finding the 
blue rose. He was ushered into the presence of the 
Emperor, who as soon as he heard the warrior's story 
and saw the blue rose which had been brought sent 
for his daughter and said to her : " This intrepid 
warrior has brought you what he claims to be the blue 
rose. Has he accomplished the quest?" 

The Princess took the precious object in her hands, 
and after examining it for a moment, said : " This is 
not a rose at all. It is a sapphire ; I have no need 
of precious stones," And she returned the stone to 
the warrior with many elegantly expressed thanks. 
And the warrior went away in discomfiture. 

The merchant, hearing of the warrior's failure, was 
all the more anxious to win the prize. He sought the 
shopkeeper and said to him : " Have you got me the 
blue rose ? I trust you have ; because, if not, I shall 
most assuredly be the means of your death. My 
brother-in-law is chief magistrate, and I am allied by 
marriage to all the chief officials in the kingdom." 

The shopkeeper turned pale and said : " Sir, give 
me three days and I will procure you the rose without 
fail." The merchant granted him the three days and 
went away. Now the shopkeeper was at his wit's end 
as to what to do, for he knew well there was no such 
thing as a blue rose. For two days he did nothing 
but moan and wring his hands, and on the third day 
he went to his wife and said : " Wife, we are ruined." 

But his wife, who was a sensible woman, said : 
" Nonsense. If there is no such thing as a blue rose 
we must make one. Go to the chemist and ask him 
for a strong dye which will change a white rose into 
a blue one." 

So the shopkeeper went to the chemist and asked 



igo STORIES IN FULL 

him for a dye, and the chemist gave him a bottle of 
red liquid, telling him to pick a white rose and to dip 
its stalk into the liquid and the rose would turn blue. 
The shopkeeper did as he was told; the rose turned 
into a beautiful blue and the shopkeeper took it to the 
merchant, who at once went with it to the palace 
saying that he had found the blue rose. 

He was ushered into the presence of the Emperor, 
who as soon as he saw the blue rose sent for his 
daughter and said to her : " This wealthy merchant 
has brought you what he claims to be the blue rose. 
Has he accomplished the quest? " 

The Princess took the flower in her hands and after 
examining it for a moment said : " This is a white 
rose ; its stalk has been dipped in a poisonous dye and 
it has turned blue. Were a butterfly to settle upon it 
it would die of the potent fume. Take it back. I 
have no need of a dyed rose." And she returned it 
to the merchant with many elegantly expressed thanks. 

The other ninety-eight suitors all sought in various 
ways for the blue rose. Some of them travelled all 
over the world seeking it; some of them sought the 
aid of wizards and astrologers, and one did not 
hesitate to invoke the help of the dwarfs that live 
underground ; but all of them, whether they travelled 
in far countries or took counsel with wizards and 
demons or sat pondering in lonely places, failed to 
find the blue rose. 

At last they all abandoned the quest except the 
Lord Chief Justice, who was the most skilful lawyer 
and statesman in the country. After thinking over 
the matter for several months he sent for the most 
famous artist in the country and said to him : " Make 
me a china cup. Let it be milk-white in colour and 
perfect in shape, and paint on it a rose, a blue rose." 



THE BLUE ROSE 19* 

The artist made obeisance and withdrew, and worked 
for two months at the Lord Chief Justice's cup. In 
two months' time it was finished, and the world has 
never seen such a beautiful cup, so perfect in sym- 
metry, so delicate in texture, and the rose on it, the 
blue rose, was a living flower, picked in fairyland and 
floating on the rare milky surface of the porcelain. 
When the Lord Chief Justice saw it he gasped with 
surprise and pleasure, for he was a great lover of 
porcelain, and never in his life had he seen such a 
piece. He said to himself, " Without doubt the blue 
rose is here on this cup and nowhere else." 

So, after handsomely rewarding the artist, he went 
to the Emperor's palace and said that he had brought 
the blue rose. He was ushered into the Emperor's 
presence, who as he saw the cup sent for his daughter 
and said to her : " This eminent lawyer has brought 
you what he claims to be the blue rose. Has he 
accomplished the quest ? ' ' 

The Princess took the bowl in her hands, and after 
examining it for a moment said : " This bowl is the 
most beautiful piece of china I have ever seen. If you 
are kind enough to let me keep it I will put it aside 
until I receive the blue rose. For so beautiful is it 
that no other flower is worthy to be put in it except 
the blue rose." 

The Lord Chief Justice thanked the Princess for 
accepting the bowl with many elegantly turned 
phrases, and he went away in discomfiture. 

After this there was no one in the whole country 
who ventured on the quest of the blue rose. It 
happened that not long after the Lord Chief Justice's 
attempt a strolling minstrel visited the kingdom of 
the Emperor. One evening he was playing his one- 
stringed instrument outside a dark wall. It was a 



192 STORIES IN FULL 

summer's evening, and the sun had sunk in a glory 
of dusty gold, and in the violet twilight one or two 
stars were twinkling like spear-heads. There was an 
incessant noise made by the croaking of frogs and 
the chatter of grasshoppers. The minstrel was 
singing a short song over and over again to a 
monotonous tune. The sense of it was something 
like this : 

I watched beside the willow trees 

The river, as the evening fell, 
The twilight came and brought no breeze, 

Nor dew, nor water for the well. 

When from the tangled banks of grass 

A bird across the water flew, 
And in the river's hard grey glass 

I saw a flash of azure blue. 

As he sang he heard a rustle on the wall, and 
looking up he saw a slight figure white against the 
twilight, beckoning to him. He walked along the 
wall until he came to a gate, and there someone was 
waiting for him, and he was gently led into the 
shadow of a dark cedar tree. In the dim twilight he 
saw two bright eyes looking at him, and he under- 
stood their message. In the twilight a thousand 
meaningless nothings were whispered in the light of 
the stars, and the hours fled swiftly. When the East 
began to grow light, the Princess (for it was she) said 
it was time to go. 

" But," said the minstrel, " to-morrow I shall come 
to the palace and ask for your hand." 

"Alas!" said the Princess, "I would that were 
possible, but my father has made a foolish condition 
that only he may wed me who finds the blue rose." 



THE TWO FROGvS 193 

"That is simple," said the minstrel. " I will find 
it." And they said good-night to each other. 

The next morning the minstrel went to the palace, 
and on his way he picked a common white rose from 
a wayside garden. He was ushered into the Emperor's 
presence, who sent for his daughter and said to her : 
" This penniless minstrel has brought you what he 
claims to be the blue rose. Has he accomplished the 
quest?" 

The Princess took the rose in her hands and said : 
" Yes, this is without doubt the blue rose." 

But the Lord Chief Justice and all who were present 
respectfully pointed out that the rose was a common 
white rose and not a blue one, and the objection was 
with many forms and phrases conveyed to the 
Princess. 

" I think the rose is blue," said the Princess. 
" Perhaps you are all colour blind." 

The Emperor, with whom the decision rested, 
decided that if the Princess thought the rose was blue 
it was blue, for it was well known that her perception 
was more acute than that of any one else in the 
kingdom. 

So the minstrel married the Princess, and they 
settled on the sea coast in a little seen house with a 
garden full of white roses, and they lived happily for 
ever afterwards. And the Emperor, knowing that his 
daughter had made a good match, died in peace. 

Maurice Baring. 



The Two Frogs. 

Once upon a time in the country of Japan there 
lived two frogs, one of whom made his home in a 
ditch near the town of Osaka, on the sea coast, while 



i 9 4 STORIES IN FULL 

the other dwelt in a clear little stream which ran 
through the city of Kioto. At such a great distance 
apart; they had never even heard of each other; but, 
funnily enough, the idea came into both their heads 
at once that they should like to see a little of the 
world, and the frog who lived at Kioto wanted to 
visit Osaka, and the frog who lived at Osaka wished 
to go to Kioto, where the great Mikado had his palace. 

So one fine morning, in the spring, they both set 
out along the road that led from Kioto to Osaka, one 
from one end and the other from the other. 

The journey was more tiring than they expected, 
for they did not know much about travelling, and 
half-way between the two towns there rose a mountain 
which had to be climbed. It took them a long time 
and a great many hops to reach the top, but there they 
were at last, and what was the surprise of each to see 
another frog before him ! They looked at each other 
for a moment without speaking, and then fell into 
conversation, and explained the cause of their meeting 
so far from their homes. It was delightful to find 
that they both felt the same wish — to learn a little 
more of their native country — and as there was no sort 
of hurry they stretched themselves out in a cool, damp 
place, and agreed that they would have a good rest 
before they parted to go their ways. 

" What a pity we are not bigger," said the Osaka 
frog, "and then we could see both towns from here 
and tell if it is worth our while going on." 

" Oh, that is easily managed," returned the Kioto 
frog. " We have only got to stand up on our hind 
legs, and hold on to each other, and then we can each 
look at the town he is travelling to." 

This idea pleased the Osaka frog so much that he 
at once jumped up and put his front paws on the 



A SNAKE STORY 195 

shoulder of his friend, who had risen also. There 
they both stood, stretching themselves as high as 
they could, and holding each other tightly, so that 
they might not fall down. The Kioto frog turned 
his nose towards Osaka, and the Osaka frog turned 
his nose towards Kioto; but the foolish things forgot 
that when they stood up their great eyes lay in the 
backs of their heads, and that though their noses 
might point to the places to which they wanted to go, 
their eyes beheld the places from which they had 
come. 

"Dear me!" cried the Osaka frog, "Kioto is 
exactly like Osaka. It is certainly not worth such a 
long journey. I shall go home." 

" If I had had any idea that Osaka was only a copy 
of Kioto I should never have travelled all this way," 
exclaimed the frog from Kioto, and as he spoke, he 
took his hands from his friend's shoulders and they 
both fell down on the grass. 

Then they took a polite farewell of each other, and 
set off for home again, and to the end of their lives 
they believed that Osaka and Kioto, which are as 
different to look at as two towns can be, were as like 
as two peas. 



The Wise Old Shepherd. 

Once upon a time, a Snake went out of his hole to 
take an airing. He crawled about, greatly enjoying 
the scenery and the fresh whiff of the breeze, until, 
seeing an open door, he went in. Now this door was 
the door of the palace of the King, and inside was 
the King himself, with all his courtiers. 

Imagine their horror at seeing a huge Snake crawl- 



i 9 6 STORIES IN FULL 

ing in at the door. They all ran away except the 
King, who felt that his rank forbade him to be a 
coward, and the King's son. The King called out for 
somebody to come and kill the Snake ; but this 
horrified them still more, because in that country the 
people believed it to be wicked to kill any living 
thing, even snakes and scorpions and wasps. So the 
courtiers did nothing, but the young Prince obeyed 
his father, and killed the Snake with his stick. 

After a while the Snake's wife became anxious and 
set out in search of her husband. She too saw the 
open door of the palace, and in she went. O horror ! 
there on the floor lay the body of her husband, all 
covered with blood and quite dead. No one saw the 
Snake's Wife crawl in ; she inquired of a white ant 
what had happened, and when she found that the 
young Prince had killed her husband, she made a 
vow that, as he had made her a widow, so she would 
make his wife a widow. 

That night, when all the world was asleep, the 
Snake crept into the Prince's bedroom, and coiled 
round his neck. The Prince slept on, and when he 
awoke in the morning, he was surprised to find his 
neck encircled with the coils of a snake. He was 
afraid to stir, so there he remained, until the Prince's 
mother became anxious and went to see what was the 
matter. When she entered his room, and saw him in 
this plight, she gave a loud shriek, and ran off to tell 
the King. 

" Call the archers," said the King. 

The archers came, and the King told them to go to 
the Prince's room, and shoot the Snake that was coiled 
about his neck. They were so clever, that they could 
easily do this without hurting the Prince at all. 

In came the archers in a row, fitted the arrows to 



A SNAKE STORY 197 

the bows, the bows were raised and ready to shoot, 
when, on a sudden, from the Snake there issued a 
voice which spoke as follows : 

" O archers, wait, wait and hear me before you 
shoot. It is not fair to carry out the sentence before 
you have heard the case. Is not this a good law : an 
eye for an eye, and a tooth for a tooth ? Is it not so, 

King?" 

"Yes," replied the King-, "that is our law. 
" Then," said the Snake, " I plead the law. Your 
son has made me a widow, so it is fair and right that 

1 should make his wife a widow." 

" That sounds right enough," said the King, " but 
right and law are not always the same thing. We 
had better ask somebody who knows." 

They asked all the judges, but none of them could 
tell the law of the matter. They shook their heads, 
and said they would look up all their law-books, and 
see whether anything of the sort had ever happened 
before, and if so, how it had been decided. That is 
the way judges used to decide cases in that country, 
though I daresay it sounds to you a very funny way. 
It looked as if they had not much sense in their own 
heads, and perhaps that was true. The upshot of it 
all was that not a judge would give an opinion ; so 
the King sent messengers all over the countryside, to 
see if they could find somebody who knew something. 

One of these messengers found a party of five 
shepherds, who were sitting upon a hill and trying to 
decide a quarrel of their own. They gave their 
opinions so freely, and in language so very strong, 
that the King's messenger said to himself, " Here are 
the men for us. Here are five men, each with an 
opinion of his own, and all different." Post-haste he 
scurried back to the King, and told him that he had 



198 STORIES IN FULL 

found at last some one ready to judge the knotty point. 

So the King and the Queen, and the Prince and 
Princess, and all the courtiers, got on horseback, and 
away they galloped to the hill whereupon the five 
shepherds were sitting, and the Snake too went with 
them, coiled round the neck of the Prince. 

When they got to the shepherds' hill, the shepherds 
were dreadfully frightened. At first they thought 
that the strangers were a gang of robbers, and when 
they saw it was the King their next thought was that 
one of their misdeeds had been found out; and each 
of them began thinking what was the last thing he 
had done, and wondering, was it that? 

But the King and the courtiers got off their horses, 
and said good day in the most civil way. So the 
shepherds felt their minds set at ease again. Then 
the King said : 

" Worthy shepherds, we have a question to put to 
you, which not all the judges in all the courts of my 
city have been able to solve. Here is my son, and 
here, as you see, is a snake coiled round his neck. 
Now, the husband of this Snake came creeping into 
my palace hall, and my son the Prince killed him ; 
so this Snake, who is the wife of the other, says that, 
as my son has made her a widow, so she has a right 
to widow my son's wife. What do you think about 
it?" 

The first shepherd said : " I think she is quite 
right, my Lord the King. If anyone made my wife 
a widow, I would pretty soon do the same to him." 

This was brave language, and the other shepherds 
shook their heads and looked fierce. But the King 
was puzzled, and could not quite understand it. You 
see, in the first place, if the man's wife were a widow, 
the man would be dead ; and then it is hard to see that 



A SNAKE STORY 199 

he could do anything". So, to make sure, the King 
asked the second shepherd whether that was his 
opinion too. 

" Yes," said the second shepherd ; " now the Prince 
has killed the Snake, the Snake has a right to kill the 
Prince if he can." But that was not of much use 
either, as the Snake was as dead as a door-nail. So 
the King passed on to the third. 

" I agree with my mates," said the third shepherd. 
" Because, you see, a Prince is a Prince, but then a 
Snake is a Snake." That was quite true, they all 
admitted, but it did not seem to help the matter much. 
Then the King asked the fourth shepherd to say what 
he thought. 

The fourth shepherd said : "An eye for an eye, and 
a tooth for a tooth ; so I think a widow should be a 
widow, if so be she don't marry again." 

By this time the poor King was so puzzled that he 
hardly knew whether he stood on his head or his heels. 
But there was still the fifth shepherd left; the oldest 
and wisest of them all ; and the fifth shepherd said : 
' King, I should like to ask two questions." 
'Ask twenty, if you like," said the King. He did 
not promise to answer them, so he could afford to be 
generous. 

"First, I ask the Princess how many sons she has?" 

" Four," said the Princess. 

"And how many sons has Mistress Snake here? " 

" Seven," said the Snake. 

"Then," said the old shepherd, "it will be quite 
air for Mistress Snake to kill his Highness the Prince 
vhen her Highness the Princess has had three sons 
nore." 

" I never thought of that," said the Snake. "Good- 
ie, King, and all you good people. Send a message 

N 



200 STORIES IN FULL 

when the Princess has had three more sons, and you 
may count upon me — I will not fail you.' 1 

So saying, she uncoiled from the Prince's neck and 
slid away among the grass. 

The King and the Prince and everybody shook 
hands with the wise old shepherd, and went home 
again. And the Princess never had any more sons 
at all. She and the Prince lived happily for many 
years; and if they are not dead they are living still. 

From " The Talking Thrush." 



The True Spirit of a Festival Day. 

And it came to pass that the Buddha was born a 
Hare and lived in a wood ; on one side was the foot 
of a mountain, on another a river, on the third side 
a border village. 

And with him lived three friends : a Monkey, a 
Jackal and an Otter ; each of these creatures got food 
on his own hunting ground. In the evening they 
met together, and the Hare taught his companions 
many wise things : that the moral laws should be 
observed, that alms should be given to the poor, and 
that holy days should be kept. 

One day the Buddha said : " To-morrow is a fast 
day. Feed any beggars that come to you by giving 
food from your own table." They all consented. 

The next day the Otter went down to the bank of 
the Ganges to seek his prey. Now a fisherman had 
landed seven red fish and had buried them in the sand 
on the river's bank while he went down the stream 
catching more fish. The Otter scented the buried 
fish, dug up the sand till he came upon them, and he 
cajled aloud : " Does any one own these fish ? " And 



BUDDHA THE HARE 201 

not seeing the owner, he laid the fish in the jungle 
where he dwelt, intending to eat them at a fitting time. 
Then he lay down, thinking how virtuous he was. 

The Jackal also went off in search of food, and 
found in the hut of a field watcher a lizard, two spits, 
and a pot of milk-curd. 

And, after thrice crying aloud, " To whom do these 
belong?" and not finding an owner, he put on his 
neck the rope for lifting the pot, and grasping the 
spits and lizard with his teeth, he laid them in his own 
lair, thinking, " In due season I will devour them," 
and then he lay down, thinking how virtuous he had 
been. 

The Monkey entered the clump of trees, and gather- 
ing a bunch of mangoes, laid them up in his part of 
the jungle, meaning to eat them in due season. He 
then lay down and thought how virtuous he had been. 

But the Hare (who was the Buddha-to-be) in due 
time came out, thinking to lie (in contemplation) on 
the Kuca grass. "It is impossible for me to offer 
grass to any beggars who may chance to come by, 
and I have no oil or rice or fish. If any beggar come 
to me, I will give him (of) my own flesh to eat." 

Now when Sakka, the King of the Gods, heard this 
thing, he determined to put the Royal Hare to the 
test. So he came in disguise of a Brahmin to the 
Otter and said : " Wise Sir, if I could get something 
to eat, I would perform all my priestly duties." 

The Otter said : " I will give you food. Seven red 
fish have I safely brought to land from the sacred river 
of the Ganges. Eat thy fill, O Brahmin, and stay in 
this wood." 

And the Brahmin said : " Let it be until to-morrow, 
and I will see to it then." 

Then he went to the Jackal, who confessed that he 



202 vSTORIES IN FULL 

had stolen the food, but he begged the Brahmin to 
accept it and remain in the wood ; but the Brahmin 
said : "Let it be until the morrow, and then I will 
see to it." 

And he came to the Monkey, who offered him the 
mangoes, and the Brahmin answered in the same way. 

Then the Brahmin went to the wise Hare, and the 
Hare said : " Behold, I will give you of my flesh to 
eat. But you must not take life on this holy day. 
When you have piled up the logs I will sacrifice 
myself by falling into the midst of the flames, and 
when my body is roasted you shall eat my flesh and 
perform all your priestly duties." 

Now when Sakka heard these words he caused a 
heap of burning coals to appear, and the Wisdom 
Being, rising from the grass, came to the place, but 
before casting himself into the flames he shook 
himself, lest perchance there should be any insects in 
his coat who might suffer death. Then, offering his 
body as a free gift, he sprang up, and like a royal 
swan, lighting on a bed of lotus in an ecstasy of joy, 
he fell on the heap of live coals. But the flame failed 
even to heat the pores or the hair on the body of the 
Wisdom Being, and it was as if he had entered a 
region of frost. Then he addressed the Brahmin in 
these words : " Brahmin, the fire that you have 
kindled is icy cold; it fails to heat the pores or the 
hair on my body. What is the meaning of this? " 

" O most wise Hare ! I am Sakka, and have come 
to put your virtue to the test." 

And the Buddha in a sweet voice said : " No god 
or man could find in me an unwillingness to die." 

Then Sakka said : " O wise Hare, be thy virtue 
known to all the ages to come." 

And seizing the mountain he squeezed out the juice 



BUDDHA THE PARROT-KING 203 

and daubed on the moon the signs of the young hare. 

Then he placed him back on the grass that he 
might continue his Sabbath meditation, and returned 
to Heaven. 

And the four creatures lived together and kept the 
moral law. 



Filial Piety. % 

Now it came to pass that the Buddha was re-born 
in the shape of a Parrot, and he greatly excelled all 
other parrots in his strength and beauty. And when 
he was full grown his father, who had long been the 
leader of the flock in their flights to other climes, said 
to him : " My son, behold my strength is spent ! Do 
thou lead the flock, for I am no longer able." And 
the Buddha said : " Behold, thou shalt rest. I will 
lead the birds." And the parrots rejoiced in the 
strength of their new leader, and willingly did they 
follow him. Now from that day on, the Buddha 
undertook to feed his parents, and would not consent 
that they should do any more work. Each day he led 
his flock to the Himalaya Hills, and when he had 
eaten his fill of the clumps of rice that grew there, he 
filled his beak with food for the dear parents who 
were waiting his return. 

Now there was a man appointed to watch the rice- 
fields, and he did his best to drive the parrots away, 
but there seemed to be some secret power in the leader 
of this flock which the Keeper could not overcome. 

He noticed that the Parrots ate their fill and then 
flew away, but that the Parrot-King not only satisfied 
his hunger, but carried away rice in his beak. 

Now he feared there would be no rice left, and he 
went to his master the Brahmin to tell him what had 



204 STORIES IN FULL 

happened ; and even as the master listened there came 
to him the thought that the Parrot-King was some- 
thing higher than he seemed, and he loved him even 
before he saw him. But he said nothing of this, and 
only warned the Keeper that he should set a snare 
and catch the dangerous bird. So the man did as he 
was bidden : he made a small cage and set the snare, 
and sat down in his hut waiting for the birds to come. 
And soon he saw the Parrot-King amidst his flock, 
who, because he had no greed, sought no richer spot, 
but flew down to the same place in which he had fed 
the day before. 

Now, no sooner had he touched the ground that he 
felt his feet caught in the noose. Then fear crept into 
his bird-heart, but a stronger feeling was there to 
crush it down, for he thought : " If I cry out the Cry 
of the Captured, my Kinsfolk will be terrified, and 
they will fly away foodless. But if I lie still, then 
their hunger will be satisfied, and they may safely 
come to my aid." Thus was the Parrot both brave 
and prudent. 

But alas ! he did not know that his Kinsfolk had 
nought of his brave spirit. When they had eaten 
their fill, though they heard the thrice-uttered cry of 
the captured, they flew away, nor heeded the sad 
plight of their leader. 

Then was the heart of the Parrot-King sore within 
him, and he said : "All these my kith and kin, and 
not one to look back on me. Alas ! what sin have 
I done?" 

The Watchman now heard the cry of the Parrot- 
King, and the sound of the other Parrots flying 
through the air. "What is that?" he cried, and 
leaving his hut he came to the place where he had 
laid the snare. There he found the captive Parrot; 



BUDDHA THE PARROT-KING 205 

he tied his feet together and brought him to the 
Brahmin, his master. Now, when the Brahmin saw 
the Parrot-King, he felt his strong power, and his 
heart was full of love to him, but he hid his feelings, 
and said in a voice of anger : " Is thy greed greater 
than that of all other birds? They eat their fill, but 
thou takest away each day more food than thou canst 
eat. Doest thou this out of hatred for me, or dost 
thou store up the food in some granary for selfish 
greed?" 

And the Great Being made answer in a sweet 
human voice : " I hate thee not, O Brahmin. Nor 
do I store the rice in a granary for selfish greed. But 
this thing I do. Each day I pay a debt which is 
due — each day I grant a loan, and each day I store 
up a treasure." 

Now the Brahmin could not understand the words 
of the Buddha (because true wisdom had not entered 
his heart), and he said : " I pray thee, O Wondrous 
Bird, to make these words clear unto me." 

And then the Parrot-King made answer : " I carry 
food to my ancient parents who can no longer seek 
that food for themselves : thus I pay my daily debt. 
I carry food to my callow chicks whose wings are yet 
ungrown. When I am old they will care for me — 
this my loan to them. And for other birds, weak and 
helpless of wing, who need the aid of the strong, for 
them I lay up a store; to these I give in charity." 

Then was the Brahmin much moved, and showed 
the love that was in his heart. " Eat thy fill, O 
Righteous Bird, and let thy Kinsfolk eat too, for thy 
sake." And he wished to bestow a thousand acres 
of land upon him, but the Great Being would only 
take a tiny portion round which were set boundary 
stones. 



2 o6 STORIES IN FULL 

And the Parrot returned with a head of rice, and 
said : "Arise, dear Parents, that I may take you to a 
place of plenty." And he told them the story of his 
deliverance. 



My thanks are due to : 

Mrs. Josephine Dodge Darkam Bacon, for permis- 
sion to use an extract from " The Madness of Philip," 
and to her publishers, Charles Scrivener. 

To Messrs. Houghton Mifflin, for permission to use 
extract from " Thou Shalt Not Preach," by Mr. John 
Burroughs. 

To Messrs. Macmillan & Co., for permission to use 
" Milking Time " of Miss Rossetti. 

To Messrs. William Sharp, for permission to use 
passage from "The Divine Adventure," by "Fiona 
MacLeod." 

To Miss Ethel Clifford, for permission to use the 
poem of "The Child." 

To Mr. James Whitcomb Riley and the Robbs 
Merrill Co., for permission to use " The Treasure of 
the Wise Man." 

To Rev. R. L. Gales, for permission to use the 
article on " Nursery Rhymes " from the Nation. 

To Mr. Eclmund Gosse, for permission to use 
extracts from " Father and Son." 

To Messrs. Chatto and Windus, for permission to 



ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 207 

use " Essay on Child's Play " (from Virginibus 
Puerisque) and other papers. 

To Mr. George Allen & Co., for permission to use 
" Ballad for a Boy," by W. Cory, from " Ionica." 

To Professor Bradley, for permission to quote from 
his essay on " Poetry and Life." 

To Mr. P. A. Barnett, for permission to quote from 
" The Commonsense of Education." 

To Professor Ker, for permission to quote from 
"Sturla the Historian." 

To Mr. John Russell, for permission to print in 
full, "A Saga." 

To Messrs. Longmans Green & Co., for permission 
to use " The Two Frogs," from the Violet Fairy 
Book, and "To Your Good Health," from the 
Crimson Fairy Book. 

To Mr. Heinemann and Lady Glenconner, for per- 
mission to reprint "The Water Nixie," by Pamela 
Tennant, from "The Children and the Pictures." 

To Mr. Maurice Baring and the Editor of The 
Morning Post, for permission to reprint " The Blue 
Rose " from The Morning Post. 

To Dr. Walter Rouse and Mr. J. M. Dent, for 
permission to reprint from "The Talking Thrush" 
the story of "The Wise Old Shepherd." 

To Mr. James Stephens, for permission to reprint 
" The Man and the Boy." 



2 o8 STORIES IN FULL 

To Mr. Harold Barnes, for permission to use version 
of "The Proud Cock." 

To Mrs. Arnold Glover, for permission to print 
two of her stories. 

To Miss Emilie Poulson, for permission to use her 
translation of Bjornsen's poem. 

To George Routledge & Son, for permission to use 
stories from " Eastern Stories and Fables." 

To Mrs. W. K. Clifford, for permission to quote 
from "Very Short Stories." 

To Mr. W. Jenkyn Thomas and Mr. Fisher Unwin, 
for permission to use "Arthur in the Cave " from the 
Welsh Fairy Book. 



The following stories are not a representative list : 
this I have endeavoured to give with the story-list 
preceding. These stories are mostly taken from my 
own repertoire, and have so constantly been asked 
for by teachers that I am glad of an opportunity of 
presenting them in full. 

Episode from " Sturla the Historian," to illustrate 
the value of the art of story-telling. 

Saga, by John Russell. 

St. Christopher, in the version taken from the 
" Legenda Aurea." 

"Arthur in the Cave," from the "Welsh Fairy 
Book." 

"Hafiz the Stone-cutter" (adapted from the Oriental). 



ACKNOWLEDGMENTS 209 

" To Your Good Health," from The Crimson Fairy 
Book. 

"The Proud Cock," from the Spanish. 

" Snegourka," from the Russian. 

11 The Water Nixie," by Pamela Tennant. 

"The Blue Rose," by Maurice Baring. 

"The Wise old Shepherd," from "The Talking 
Thrush." 



I had intended, in this section, to offer an appendix 
of titles of stories and books which would cover all 
the ground of possible narrative in schools; but I 
have found, since taking up the question, so many 
lists containing standard books and stories, that I 
have decided that this original plan would be a work 
of supererogation, since it would be almost impossible 
to prepare such a list without the certainty of over- 
lapping. What is really needed is a supplementary 
list to those already published — a specialized list 
which has been gathered together by private research 
and personal experience. I have for many years 
spent considerable time in the British Museum, and 
some of the principal Libraries in the United States, 
and I now offer the fruit of that labour in the miscel- 
laneous collection contained in this chapter. Before 
giving my own selection, I should like to say that for 
general lists one can use with great profit the 
following : 



2io LIST OF BOOKS 

Sources of Norse Stories for Story-tellers. 

Cycles of Stories from the Norse. Part I : Historical Tales. 

Part II : Norse Myths. Part III : Volsunga Saga. 

Part IV : Frithiof Saga. 
Snorro Sturluson. Stories of the Kings of Norway; done 

into English by William Morris. Page 83 — 117. 
Snorro Sturluson. A History of the Norse Kings ; done 

into English by Samuel Laing. Pages 11 — 35. 
Snorro Sturluson. Younger Edda. Pages 72, 73, 114— 127, 

128—130, 131— 139, 160—164, 184—187, 

189 — 192. 
Morris. Story of Sigurd the Volsung. 
Volsunga Saga. By Eirikr and William Morris. 

Other sources from modern books can be found in 
Mabie, Wilmot Buxton, Keans Tappan, Cartwright 
Pole, Johonnut Anderson. Some of these are suitable 
for children themselves, and contain excellent reading 
matter. 

Note. — I most gratefully acknowledge these sources 
supplied by the courtesy of Pittsburg Carnegie 
Library. 

List of stories in compilation by Anna C. Tyler (Supervisor 

of Story-telling in New York). 
Heroism. A reading list for boys and girls. 

Both these lists are published by the New York 
Library, and I have had permission to quote both, by 
the courtesy of the Library. 

In that admirable work, " Story -Telling in School 
and Home," by Evelyn Newcomb Partridge and 
George Everett Partridge, published by William 
Heinemann, besides a valuable analysis of the Art of 
Story-Telling, there is an excellent list of books and 
stories. 



LIST OF BOOKS 211 

List of Books containing Stories or Reading 
Matter for Children. 

The following list is not of my own making. I 
have taken it on the recommendation of Marion E. 
Potter, Bertha Tannehill and Emma L. Teich, who 
have compiled the list from twenty-three other lists. 
I again have made a shorter list of the titles, and 
acknowledge most gratefully the kind permission of 
the H. W. Wilson Company (Minneapolis) to quote 
from their book. The original work, which contains 
3,000 titles, is well known in the United States under 
the title of "Children's Catalogue." It is a book 
which ought to be in every School and Training College 
Library, and I hope my fragmentary selection may 
make it better known in my own country. I regret 
that I am unable to give publishers or reference marks 
for this American list. 

About Old Story-tellers. Mitchell, D. G. 

Boys' Iliad. Perry. 

Jack among the Indians, and Other Stories. G. B. Grinnell. 

Adventure Stories. Hale, E. 

Young Alaskans. Hough, E. 

Aztec Treasure House. Janvier. 

Last Three Soldiers. Skelton, W. 

Under the Lilacs. Alcott, Louisa. 

Moral Pirates. Livingstone, A. W. 

Classics Old and New. Alderman, E. A. 

Boy of a Thousand Years Ago. Comstock, H. R 

All About Japan. Brane, B. M. 

All About the Russians. Lockes, E. C. 

Children of the Palm Lands. Allen, A. E. 

Italian Child Life. Ambrose, Marietta. 

American Hero Stories. Tappan, E. M. 

Chinese Boy and Girl. Headland, Y. T. 

Viking Tales of the North. Anderson, R. B. 

Animal Stories Re-told from St. Nicholas. Carter, M. H. 

Short Stories of Shy Neighbours. Kelly, M. H. 

Hundred Anecdotes of Animals. Billingham, P. T. 

Books of Saints and Friendly Beasts. Brown, A. F. 

Stories of Animal Life. Holden, C. F. 



mmuuuuu 



212 LIST OF BOOKS 

Story of a Donkey (Abridged). Segur, S. 

Children of the Cold. Schnatka, F. 

Stories from Plato and other Classic Writers. Burt, M. E- 

Tenting on the Plains. Custer, E. 

To the Front. King, C. 

Stories of Persian Heroes. Firdansi. 

Nelson and his Captains. Fitchett, William H. 

Danish Fairy and Folk Tales. Bay, J. C. 

Evening Tales. Ortoli, F. 

Legends of King Arthur and his Court. Greene, F. N. 

Story of King Arthur. Pyle, H. 

New World Fairy Book. Kenedy, H. A. 

Myths of the Red Children. Wilson, G. L. 

Old Indian Legends. Zitkala, Sa. 

Folk Tales from the Russian. Blumenthal, V. K. 

Wagner Opera Stories. Barker, Grace. 

Lolanu, the Little Cliff-dweller. Bayliss (Mrs. Clara Kern). 

Big People and Little People of Other Lands. Shaw, E. R. 

Children's Stories of the Great Scientists. Wright, H. C. 

Fairy Tales. Lansing, M. F. 

Light Princess, and Other Stories. Macdonald, George. 

Classic Stories for the Little Ones. Mace, J., and McClurey, 

L. B. 
Old World Wonder Stories. O'Shea, M. V. 
Japanese Fairy Tales Re-told. Williston, T. P. 
Famous Indian Chiefs I Have Known. Hovard, O. O. 
Fanciful Tales. Stockton, F. R. 
Boys' Book of Famous Rulers, from Agamemnon to 

Napoleon. Farmer, Mrs. Lydia Hoyt. 
Favourite Greek Myths. Hyde, T. S. 
Children's Life in the Western Mountains. Foote, Mary 

(Hallock). 
Gods and Heroes. Francillon, Robert Edward. 
Sa-Zada Tales. Fraser, William Alexander. 
Story of Gretta the Strong. French, Allen. 
Lance of Kanana (Story of Arabia). French, Henry 

Willard. y 

Home Life in all Lands. Morris, C. 
Held Fast for England. Henty. 
Plutarch's Lives. Ginn, Edwin. 
King's Story Book. Gomme, Lawrence. 
Little Journeys to Balkans, European Turkey and Greece. 

George, M. M. 
Herodotus. White, J. S. 

Classic Myths in English Literature. Gayley, C. M. 
Favourite Greek Myths. Hyde, L. S. 
Stories from the East. Church, A. T. 
Herodotus. Church, A. T. 



LIST OF BOOKS 213 

Men of Iron. Pyle, H. 

Boys' Heroes. Hale, Edward Everett. 

Strange Stories from History. Eggleston. 

Stories of Other Lands. Johannot, J. 

Book of Nature Myths. Holbrook, Florence. 

Stories of Great Artists. Home, Olive Brown, and Lois, K. 

Russian Grandmother's Wonder Tales. Houghton, Mrs. 

Louise (Seymour) . 
Stories of Famous Children. Hunter, Mary van Brunt. 
Stories of Indian Chieftains. Husted, Mary Hall. 
Stories of Indian Children. Husted, Mary Hall. 
Golden Porch : A Book of Greek Fairy Tales. Hutchinson, 

W. M. L. 
Indian Boyhood. Eastman, C. H. 
Indian History for Young Folk. Drake, F. S. 
Indian Stories Re-told from St Nicholas. Drake, F. S. 
One Thousand Poems for Children. Ingpen, Roger. 
My Lady Pokahontas. Cooke, J. E. 
In the Sargasso Sea. Janvier, T. A. 
Childhood of Ji-Shib. Jenks, Albert Ernest. 
Stories from Chaucer told to the Children. Kelman, Janet 

Harvey. 
Stories from the Crusades. Kelman, Janet Harvey. 
New World Fairy Book. Kenedy, Howard Angus. 
Stories of Ancient People. Arnold E. T. 
Stories of Art and Artists. Clement, C. 
Mabinogion (Legends of Wales). Knightley. 
Heroes of Chivalry. Maitland, L. 
Cadet Days : Story of West Point. King, Charles. 
Household Stories for Little Readers. Klingensmith, Annie. 
Boy Travellers in the Russian Empire. Knox, Thomas 

Wallace. 
Boy Travellers on the Congo. Knox, Thomas Wallace. 
Fairy Book. Laboulaye, Eduard Rene Lefebre. 
Fairy Tales of All Nations. Translated by M. I. Booth. 

Laboulaye, Eduard Rene Lefebre. 
Middle Five (Life of Five Indian Boys at School). La 

Flesche, Francis. 
Wonderful Adventures of Nils. Lagerlof, Selma. 
Land of Pluck. Dodge, M. M. 
Land of the Long Night. Du Chaillu, P. B. 
Schoolboy Days in France. Laurie, Andre. 
Schoolboy Days in Japan. Laurie, Andre. 
Schoolboy Days in Russia. Laurie, Andre. 
When I was a Boy in China. Lee, Yan Phon. 
Fifty Famous Stories Re-told. Baldwin. 
Stories from Famous Ballads. Lippincott. 
Wreck of the Golden Fleece. Leighton, Robert. 



214 LIST OF BOOKS 

Children's Letters, Written to Children by Famous Men 

and Women. Colson, E., and Chittenden, A. G. 
A Story of Abraham Lincoln. Hamilton, M. 

Little Cousin Series. 

Our Little Swedish Cousin. Coburn, C. M. 

Our Little Chinese Cousin. Headland, I. T. 

Our Little Arabian Cousin. Mansfield, B. M. 

Our Little Dutch Cousin. Mansfield, B. M. 

Our Little Egyptian Cousin. Mansfield, B. M. 

Our Little English Cousin. Mansfield, B. M. 

Our Little French Cousin. Mansfield, B. M. 

Our Little Hindu Cousin. Mansfield, B. M. 

Our Little Scotch Cousin. Mansfield, B. M. 

Our Little Alaskan Cousin. Nixon, Roulet M. F. 

Our Little Australian Cousin. Nixon, Roulet M. F. 

Our Little Brazilian Cousin. Nixon, Roulet M. F. 

Our Little Grecian Cousin. Nixon, Roulet M. F. 

Our Little Spanish Cousin. Nixon, Roulet, M. F. 

Our Little Korean Cousin. Pike, H. L. 

Our Little Panama Cousin. Pike, H. L. 

Our Little African Cousin. Wade, M. H. 

Our Little Armenian Cousin. Wade, M. H. 

Our Little Brown Cousin. Wade, M. H. 

Our Little Cuban Cousin. Wade, M. H. 

Our Little Eskimo Cousin. Wade, M. H. 

Our Little Hawaiian Cousin. Wade, M. H. 

Our Little Indian Cousin. Wade, M. H. 

Our Little Irish Cousin. Wade, M. H. 

Our Little Italian Cousin. Wade, M. H. 

Our Little Japanese Cousin. Wade, M. H. 

Our Little Jewish Cousin. Wade, M. H. 

Our Little Norwegian Cousin. Wade, M. H. 

Our Little Philippine Cousin. Wade, M. H. 

Our Little Porto Rican Cousin. Wade, M. H. 

Our Little Siamese Cousin. Wade, M. H. 

Our Little Turkish Cousin. Wade, M. H. 

Our Little Canadian Cousin. Macdonald, E. Roberts. 

Little Folk in Brittany. Haines, A. C. 

Little Folks of Many Lands. Chance, L. M. 

Little Lives of Great Men. Hathaway, E. V. 

Little Men. Alcott, L. M. 

Little Royalties. McDougall, I. 

Little Stories of France. Dutton, M. B. 

Little Stories of Germany. Dutton, M. B. 

Lives of Girls who Became Famous. Bolton, S. K. 

Beasts of the Field. Long, William Joseph. 



LIST OF BOOKS 215 

Wood-Folk at School. Long, William Joseph. 

Long Ago in Greece. Carpenter, E. J. 

Peasant and Prince. Martineau, H„ 

Boy Courier of Napoleon. Sprague, W. C. 

Wonder Stories from the Mabinogion. Brooks, E. 

Old Farm Fairies.* McConk, Henry Christopher. 

Tenants of an Old Farm.* McConk, Henry Christopher. 

At the Back of the North Wind. MacDonald, George. 

Princess and the Goblin. MacDonald, George. 

Cave Boy of the Age of Stone, Mclntyre, Margaret A. 

Magna Carta Stories. Gilman, A. 

Early Cave Men. Dopp, K. E. 

Later Cave Men. Dopp, K. E. 

Stories of Roland. Marshall, H. E. 

Crofton Boys. Martineau, Harriet. 

Peats on the Fiord. Martineau, Harriet. 

Peasant and Prince. Martineau, Harriet. 

Child Stories from the Masters. Menafee, Maud. 

Miss Muffet's Christmas Party. Crotchers, S. M. 

Historical Tales : Greek. Morris, Charles. 

Historical Tales : Russian. Morris, Charles. 

Bed-Time Stories. Moulton, Louise Chandler. 

New Bed-Time Stories. Moulton, Louise Chandler. 

Modern Reader's Bible (Children Series). Moulton, F. R. G. 

My Air- Ships. Santos-Dumont. 

Old Norse Stories. Bradish, S. P. 

Through Russian Snows. Henty, G. 

Nine Worlds : Stories from Norse Mythology. Lichfield, 

M. E. 
Fairy Tales, Narratives and Poems. Norton, George Eliot. 
Modern Vikings. Boyeson, H. H. 
Boyhood in Norway. Boyeson, H. H. 
Old Greek Stories Told Anew. Peabody, J. B. 
Arabian Nights Re-told. Peary, Mrs. Josephine (Diebitsh). 
Heroic Ballads. Montgomery, D. H. 
English Ballads. Perkins, Mrs. Lucy Fitch. 
Boys' Iliad. Perry, Walter Copland. 
Boys' Odyssey. Perry, Walter Copland. 
Tale of Peter Rabbit. Potter, B. 
Tale of Squirrel Nutkin. Potter, B. 
Stories of Old France. Pitman, Leila Webster. 
Boys' and Girls' Plutarch. White, J. S. 
Greek Lives from Plutarch. Byles, C. E. 
My Lady Pokahontas. Cooke, J. E. 
Poems for Children. Rossetti, C. G. 
Children's Book. Scudder, H. E. 
Scottish Chiefs. Porter, Jane. 
Legends of the Red Children. Pratt, Mara Louise. 

* Both books dealing with insect life. 



2i6 LIST OF BOOKS 

Little Nature Studies for Little Folk. Burroughs, John. 

Giant Sun and His Family. Proctor, Mary. 

Stories of Starland. Proctor, Mary. 

Revolutionary Stories Re-told from St. Nicholas. Pyle, 

Howard. 
Old Tales from Rome. Zimmern, A. 
Stories of the Saints. Chenoweth, C. V. D. 
Sandman : His Farm Stories. Hopkins, W. T. 
Sandman : His Sea Stories. Hopkins, W. T. 
Sandman : His Ship Stories. Hopkins, W. T. 
Schooldays in France. Laurie, A. 
Schooldays in Italy. Laurie, A. 
Schooldays in Japan. Laurie, A. 
Schooldays in Russia. Laurie, A. 
William of Orang-e (Life Stories for Young People). 

Schupp, Otto Kar. 
Sea Yarns for Boys. Henderson, W. T. 
Story of Lord Roberts. Sellar, Edmund Francis. 
Story of Nelson. Sellar, Edmund Francis. 
Tent Life in Siberia. Kenman, G. 
Stories from English History. Skae, Hilda I. 
Boys who Became Famous Men (Giotto, Bach, Byron, 

Gainsborough, Handel, Coleridge, Canova, Chopin). 

Skinner, Harriet Pearl. 
Eskimo Stories. Smith, Mary Emily Estella, 
Some Curious Flyers, Creepers and Swimmers. Johannot,J. 
Bush Boys. Reid, M. 

New Mexico David, and Other Stories. Lummis, C. F. 
Child's History of Spain. Bonner^ J. 
Historical Tales : Spanish. Morris, C. 
Story of the Cid. Wilson, C. D. 

Life of Lincoln for Boys. Sparhawk, Frances Campbell. 
Pieces for Every Occasion. Le Rou, C. B. 
Stories from Dante. Chester, N. 
Stories from Old English Poetry. Richardson, A. S. 
Stories from Plato and Other Classic Writers. Burt, M. E. 
Stories in Stone from the Roman Forum. Lovell, I. 
Stories of Brave Days. Carter, M. H. 
Stories of Early England. Buxton, E. M. Wilmot. 
Stories of Heroic Deeds. Johannot, J. 
Stories of Indian Chieftains. Husted, M. H. 
Stories of Insect Life. Weed, C. M., and Mustfeldt, M. E- 
Stories of the Gorilla Country. Du Chaillu, P. B. 
Stories of the Sea told by Sailors. Hale, E. E. 
vStories of War. Hale, E. E. 
Story of Lewis Caroll. Bowman, I. 
Story of Sir Launcelot and his Companions. Pyle, H. 
Queer Little People. Stowe, Harriet Beecher. 
In Clive's Command. Strang, Herbert. 



LIST OF BOOKS 217 

George Washington Jones (Christmas of a Little Coloured 
Boy). Stuart, Ruth McEnery. 

Story of Babette. Stuart, Ruth McEnery. 

Old Ballads in Prose. Tappan, Eva. 

Lion and Tiger Stories. Carter, M. H. 

True Tales of Birds and Beasts. Jordan, D. S. 

Typical Tales of Fancy, Romance and History from Shake- 
speare's Plays. Raymond, E. 

Young People's Story of Art. Whitcomb, Ida Prentice. 

Young People's Story of Music. Whitcomb, Ida Prentice. 

Tales of Laughter. Wiggin, K. Douglas. 



The following miscellaneous list of books and 
stones is my own. I do not mean that none of them 
have appeared in other lists, but the greater number 
have been sifted from larger lists which I have made 
during the last ten years, more or less. 

For English readers I have given the press-marks 
in the British Museum, which will be an economy of 
time to busy students and teachers. I have supplied, 
in every case where it has been possible, the source of 
the story and the name of the publisher for American 
readers, but my experience as a reader in the libraries 
of the States brings me to the conclusion that all the 
books of educational value will either be found in the 
main libraries or procured on application even in the 
small towns. 

In many cases the stories would have to be shortened 
and re-arranged. The difficulty of finding the sources 
and obtaining permission has deterred me from offer- 
ing for the present these stories in full. 

This being a supplementary list to more general 
ones, there will naturally be absent a large number of 
standard books which I take for granted are known. 
Nevertheless, I have included the titles of some well- 
known works which ought not to be left out of any list. 



218 LIST OF BOOKS 

Titles of Books containing Translations and 
Adaptations of Classical Stories. 

The Children of the Dawn. Old Tales of Greece. E, 
Fennemore Buckley. 12403 f. 41. Wells, Gardner, 
Darton & Co. 

Kingsley's Heroes. 012208. e. 22/26. Blackie and Son. 
(See List of Stories.) 

Wonder Stories from Herodotus. (Excellent as a prepara- 
tion for the real old stories.) N. Barrington d 'Almeida. 
9026.66. S. Harper Brothers. 

Titles of Books containing Classical Stories 
from History Re-told. 

Plutarch's Lives for Boys and Girls. Re-told by W. H. 

Weston. 10606. d. 4. T. C. and E. C. Jack. 
Tales from Plutarch. By Jameson Rawbotham. 10606. bb. 

3. Fisher Unwin. 

Sources of Indian Stories and Myths. 

For an understanding of the inner meaning of these 
stories, and as a preparation for telling them, I should 
recommend as a useful book of reference : 

Indian Myths and Legends. By Mackenzie. 04503. f. 26. 
Gresham Publishing House. 

The following titles are of books containing stories 
for narration : 

Jacob's Indian Tales. 12411. h. 9. David Nutt. 

Old Deccan Days. Mary Frere. 12411. e.e. 14. John 
Murray. 

The Talking Thrush. W. H. D. Rouse. 12411. e.e.e. 17. 
J. M. Dent. 

Wide Awake Stories. 12411. b.b.b. 2. Steel and Temple. 

Indian Nights' Entertainment. Synnerton. 14162. f. 16. 
Eliot Stock. 

Myths of the Hindus and Buddhists. By Sister Nevedita 
and Amanda Coomara. K.T.C. Swamy. A.I. George 
Harrap Company. (This volume is mainly for refer- 
ence.) 



LIST OF BOOKS 219 

Buddhist Birth Stones. T. W. Rhys Davids. 14098. d. 23. 

Trubner Co. 
Stories of the Buddha Birth. Cowell, Rouse, Neil, Francis. 

14098. dd. 8. University Press, Cambridge. 



As selections of this extensive work : 

Eastern Stories and Fables. M. I. Shedlock. George 

Routledge. 
The Jatakas, Tales of India. Re-told by Ellen C. Babbitt. 

012809. d. 8. The Century Co. 
Folk-Tales of Kashmir. Knowles. 2318. g. 18. Trubner 

& Co. 
The Jungle-Book. Rudyard Kipling. 012807. n\ 47. Mac- 

millan. 
The Second Jungle-Book. Rudyard Kipling. 012807. k. 57. 

Macmillan. 
Tibetian Tales. F. A. Shieffner. 2318. g. 7. Trubner & Co. 



Legends, Myths and Fairy-Tales. 

Classic Myths and Legends. A. H. Hope MoncriefE. 12403. 

ee. 6. The Gresham Publishing House. 
Myths and Folk-Tales of the Russians. Curtin. 2346. e. 6. 

Sampson Low. 
North- West Slav Legends and Fairy Stories. Erben. 

(Translated by W. W. Strickland.) 12430. i. 44. 
Russian Fairy-Tales. Nisbet Pain. 12431. ee. 18. Lawrence 

and Bullen. 
Sixty Folk-Tales from Slavonic Sources. Wratislau. 12431. 

dd. 29. Elliot Stock. 
Slavonic Fairy-Tales. F. Naake. 2348. b. 4. Henry S. 

King. 
Slav Tales. Chodsho. (Translated by Emily J. Harding.) 

12411. eee. 2. George Allen. 
Chinese Stories. Pitman. 12410. dd. 25. George Harrap & 

Co. 
Chinese Fairy Tales. Professor Giles. 012201. de. 8. 

Govans International Library. 
Chinese Nights' Entertainment. Adele Fielde. 12411. h. 4. 

G. P. Putnam. 
Maori Tales. K. M. Clark. 12411. h. 15. Macmillan & Co. 
Papuan Fairy Tales. Annie Ker. 12410 eee. 25. Macmillan 

& Co. 



220 LIST OF BOOKS 

Cornwall's Wonderland. Mabel Quiller Couch. 12431. r. 13. 

J. M. Dent. 
Perrault's Fairy Tales. 012200. e. 8. " The Temple 

Classics." J. M. Dent. 
Gesta Romanorum. 12411. e. 15. Swan Sonnenschein. 
Myths and Legends of Japan. F. H. Davis. 1241. de. 8. 

G. Harrap & Co. 
Old World Japan. Frank Rinder. 12411. eee. 3. George 

Allen. 
Legendary Lore of All Nations. Swinton and Cathcart. 

1241. f. 13. Ivison, Taylor & Co. 
Popular Tales from the Norse. Sir George Webbe Dasent. 

12207. pp. George Routledge and Son. 
Fairy Tales from Finland. Zopelius. 12431. df. 2. J. M. 

Dent. 
Fairy Gold. A Book of Old English Fairy Tales, chosen by 

Ernest Rhys. 12411. dd. 22. J. M. Dent. 
Contes Populaires du Vallon. Aug. Gittee. 12430. h. 44. 

(Written in very simple style and easy of translation.) 

Wanderpooten Gand. 
Tales of Old Lusitania. Coellio. 12431. e. 34. Swan 

Sonnenschein. 
Tales from the Land of Nuts and Grapes. Charles Sellers. 

12431. c. 38. Simpkin, Marshall & Co. 
The English Fairy Book. Ernest Rhys. 12410. dd. 29. 

Fisher Unwin. 
Zuni Folk Tales. F. H. Gushing. 12411. g. 30. Putnam. 
Manx Fairy Tales. Sophia Morrison. 12410. df. 10. David 

Nutt. 
Legend of the Iroquois. W. V. Canfield. 12410. ff. 23. A 

Wessels Company. 
The Indian's Book. Natalie Curtis. 2346. i. 2. Harper 

Brothers. 
Hausa Folk Lore. Rattray. 12431. tt. 2. Clarendon Press. 
Japanese Folk Stories and Fairy Tales. Mary F. Nixon- 

Roulet. 12450. ec. 18. Swan Sonnenschein. 
Kaffir Folk Tales. G. M. Theal. 2348. e. 15. Swan 

Sonnenschein. 
Old Hungarian Tales. Baroness Orczy and Montagu 

Barstow. 12411. f. 33. Dean and Son. 
Evening with the Old Story-tellers. G.B. 1155. e. I (1). 

James Burns. 
Myths and Legends of Flowers. C. Skinner. 07029. h. 50. 

Lippincott. 
The Book of Legends Told Over Again. Horace Scudder. 

12430. e. 32. Gay and Bird. 
Indian Folk Tales (American Indian). Mary F. Nixon- 

Roulet. 12411. cc. 14. D. Appleton Company. 



LIST OF BOOKS 221 



Romance. 



Epic and Romance. Professor W. P. Ker. 2310. c. 20. Mac- 

millan. (As preparation for the selection of Romance 

Stories.) 
Old Celtic Romances. P. W. Joyce. 12430. cc. 34. David 

Nutt. 
Heroes of Asgard. Keary. 012273. de. 6. Macmillan & Co. 
Early British Heroes. Hartley. 12411. d. 5. J. M. Dent 

& Co. 
A Child's Book of Saints. W. Canton. 12206. r. 11. J. M. 

Dent. 
A Child's Book of Warriors. W. Canton. 04413. g. 49. 

J. M. Dent. 
History of Ballads. Professor W. P. Ker. From " Pro- 
ceedings of British Academy." 11852. Vol. 6 (9). 
History of English Balladry. Egbert Briant. 011853. aaa. 

16. Richard G. Badger, Gorham Press. 
Book of Ballads for Boys and Girls. Selected by Smith and 

Soutar. 11622. bbb. 3. 7. The Clarendon Press. 
A Book of Ballad Stories. Mary Macleod. 12431. p. 3. 

Wells, Gardner & Co. 
Captive Royal Children. G. T. Whitham. 10806. eee. 2. 

Wells, Gardner, Darton & Co, 
Tales and Talks from History. 9007. h. 24. Blackie & Son. 
Stories from Froissart. Henry Newbolt. 9510. cc. 9. Wells, 

Gardner, Darton & Co. 
Pilgrim Tales from Chancer. F. J. Harvey Darton. 12410. 

eee. 14. W T ells, Gardner & Darton. 
Wonder Book of Romances. F. J. Harvey Darton. 12410. 

eee. 18. Wells, Gardner & Darton. 
Red Romance Book. Andrew Lang. 12411. bbb. 10. Long- 
mans, Green & Co. 
The Garden of Romance. Edited by Ernest Rhys. 12411. 

h. 17. Kegan Paul. 
The Kiltartan Wonderbook. Lady Gregory. 12450. g. 32. 

Mannsel & Co. 
The Story of Drake. L. Elton. 10601. p. (From " The 

Children's Heroes " Series.) 
Tales from Arabian Nights. 012201. fL 7/1. Blackie & 

Sons. 
King Peter. Dion Calthrop, 012632. ccc. 37. Duckworth 

& Co. 
Tales of the Heroic Ages : Siegfried, Beowulf, Frithjof, 

Roland. Zenaide Ragozin. 12411. eee. G. P. Putnam. 



222 LIST OF BOOKS 

Titles of Miscellaneous Books containing 
Material for Narration. 

Strange Adventures in Dicky Birdland. Kearton. 12809. 

ff. 45. Cassell & Co. 
Then and Now Stories : Life in England Then and Now ; 

Children Then and Now ; Story-Tellers Then and Now. 

W.P. 2221. Macmillan & Co. 
A Book of Bad Children. Trego Webb. 012808. ee. Methnen 

& Co. 
Land of Play. Ada Wallas, 12813. r. 8. (The story of a 

Doll-Historian, much appreciated by children.) 

Edward Arnold. 
Tell It Again Stories (For very young children) . Elizabeth 

Thompson Dillingham and Adele Pomers Emerson. 

012808. cc. 15. Ginn and Co. 
The Basket Woman. Mrs. Mary Austin. Houghton Mifflin 

Co. 
The Queen Bee, and Other Stories. Evald. (Translated 

by C. C. Moore Smith.) P.P. 6064 c. Nelson and Sons. 
The Children and the Pictures. Pamela Tennant. 12804. tt. 

10. William Heinemann. 
Stories from the History of Ceylon for Children. Marie 

Musaus Higgins. Capper & Sons. 
Nonsense for Somebody by A. Nobody. 12809. n. 82. 

Wells, Gardner & Co. 
Graphic Stories for Boys and Girls. Selected from 3, 4, 5, 6 

of the Graphic Readers. 012866. f . Collins. 
Child Lore. 1451. a. 54. Nimmo, 
Windlestraw (Legends in Rhyme of Plants and Animals). 

Pamela Glenconner. 011651. e. 76. Chiswick Press. 
Deccan Nursery Tales. Kinaid. Macmillan. 
The Indian's Story Book. Richard Wilson. Macmillan. 
Told in Gallant Deeds. A Child's History of the War. 

Mrs. Belloc Lowndes. Nisbet. 

I much regret that I have been unable to find a good 
collection of stories from history for Narrative 
purposes. I have made a careful and lengthy search, 
but apart from the few I have quoted the stories are 
all written from the reading point of view, rather than 
the telling. There is a large scope for such a book, 
but the dramatic presentation is the first and chief 
essential of such a work. These stories could be used 
as supplementary to the readings of the great 



LIST OF BOOKS 223 

historians. It would be much easier to interest boys 
and girls in the more leisurely account of the historian 
when they have once been caught in the fire of 
enthusiasm on the dramatic side. 

The following is a list of single stories chosen for 
the dramatic qualities which make them suitable for 
narration. For the Press-marks and the publishers 
it will be necessary to refer back to the list containing 
the book-titles. 

Classical Stories Re-told. 

The Story of Theseus (To be told in six parts for a series) . 
How Theseus Lifted the Stone. 
How Theseus Slew the Corynetes. 
How Theseus Slew Sinis. 
How Theseus Slew Kerkyon and Procrustes. 
How Theseus Slew Medea and was acknowledged 

as the Son of iEgeus. 
How Theseus Slew the Minotaur. 

(From Kingsley's Heroes. 012208. e. 22/26. Blackie 
& Son.) 
The Story of Crcesus. 
The Conspiracy of the Magi. 
Arion and the Dolphin. 

(From Wonder Tales from Herodotus. These are 
intended for reading, but could be shortened for 
effective narration.) 
Coriolanus. 
Julius Caesar. 
Aristides. 
Alexander. 

(From Plutarch's Lives for Boys and Girls. These 
stories must be shortened and adapted for narra- 
tion.) 
The God of the Spears : The Story of Romulus. 
His Father's Crown : The story of Alcibiades. 

(From Tales from Plutarch. F. J. Rowbotham. Both 
these stories to be shortened and told in sections.) 

Indian Stories. 

The Wise Old Shepherd. 

(From The Talking Thrush. Rouse.) 
The Religious Camel. 

(From the same source.) 



224 LIST OF BOOKS 

Less Inequality than Men Deem. 

The Brahman, the Tiger and the Six Judges. 

Tit for Tat. 

(From Old Deccan Days. Mary Frere.) 
Pride Goeth Before a Fall. 
Harisarman. 

(From Jacob's Indian Fairy Tales.) 
The Bear's Bad Bargain. 
Little Anklebone. 
Peasie and Beansie. 

(From Wide Awake Stories. Flora Annie Steel.) 
The Weaver and the Water Melon. 
The Tiger and the Hare. 

(From Indian Nights' Entertainment. Synnerton.) 
The Virtuous Animals. 

(This story should be abridged and somewhat altered 
for narration.) 
The Ass as Singer. 
The Wolf and the Sheep. 

(From Tibetian Tales. F. A. Schieffur.) 
A Story about Robbers. 

(From Out of the Far East. Page. 131. Lafcadio 
Hearn. 10058. de. g. Houghton and Mifflin.) 
Dripping. 

(From Indian Fairy Tales. Mark Thornhill. 12431. 
bbb. 38. Hatchard.) 
The Buddha as Tree-Spirit. 
The Buddha as Parrot. 
The Buddha as King 

(From Eastern Stories and Fables. George Routledge.) 
Raksas and Bakshas. 
The Bread of Discontent. 

(From Legendary Lore of All Nations. Cathcart and 
Swinton.) 
A Germ-Destroyer. 

Namga}^ Doola (A good story for boys, to be given in 
shortened form). 

(From The Kipling Reader. 1227. t. 7. Macmillan.) 
A Stupid Boy. 
The Clever Jackal (One of the few stories wherein the 

Jackal shows skill combined with gratitude). 
Why the Fish Laughed. 

(From Folk Tales of Kashmir. Knowles.) 



Common Sense and Resourcefulness and Humour. 

The Thief and the Cocoanut Tree. 
The Woman and the Lizard. 



LIST OF BOOKS 



225 



Sada Sada. 

The Shopkeeper and the Robber. 

The Reciter. 

Rich Man's Potsherd. 

Singer and the Donkey. 

Child and Milk 

Rich Man Giving a Feast. 

King Solomon and the Mosquitoes. 

The King who Promised to Look After Tennel Ranan's 

Family. 
Vikadakavi. 

Horse and Complainant. 
The Woman and the Stolen Fruit. 

(From An Indian Tale or Two. Swinton. 14171. A. 20. 

Reprinted from Blackheath Local Guide.) 



Titles of Books containing Stories from History. 

British Sailor Heroes. 
British Soldier Heroes. 

(From the Hero Reader. W.P. 53 1/3. William Heine- 
mann.) 
The Story of Alfred the Great. A. E. McKillan. 
Alexander the Great. Ada Russell. W.P. 66/5. 
The Story of Jean d'Arc. Wilmot Buxton. W.P. 66/1. 
Marie Antoinette. Alice Birkhead. W.P. 66/2. 

(All these are published by George Harrap.) 



Stories from the Lives of Saints. 



The Children's Library of the Saints. Edited by Rev. W. 
Guy Pearse. Printed by Richard Jackson. 

(This is an illustrated penny edition.) 
From the Legenda Aurea. 012200. de. 

The Story of St. Brandon (The Episode of the Birds). 
Vol 7, page 52. 

The Story of St. Francis. Vol. 6, page 125. 

The Story of Santa Clara and the Roses. 

Saint Elisabeth of Hungary. Vol. 6, page 213. 

St. Martin and the Cloak. Vol. 6, page 142. 
The Legend of St. Marjory. 

(Tales Facetice. 12350. b. 39.) 
Melangell's Lambs. 

(From The Welsh Fairy Book. W. Jenkyn Thomas. 
Fisher Unwin.) 



226 LIST OF BOOKS 

Our Lady's Tumbler. (Twelfth Century Legend told by 
Philip Wicksteed. 012356. e. 59.) 
(J. M. Dent. This story could be shortened and adapted 
without sacrificing too much of the beauty of the style.) 
The Song of the Minster. 

(From William Canton's Book of Saints. K.T.C. a/4. 
J. M. Dent. This should be shortened and some- 
what simplified for narration, especially in the 
technical ecclesiastical terms.) 
The Story of St. Kenelm the Little King. 

(From Old English History for Children.) 
The Story of King Alfred and St. Cuthbert. 
The Story of iEdburg, the Daughter of Edward. 
The Story of King Harold's Sickness and Recovery. 

I commend all those who tell these stories to read 
the comments made on them by E. A. Freeman 
himself. 

(From Old English History for Children. 012206. ppp. 
7. J. M. Dent. Everyman Series.) 



Stories Dealing with the Success of the 
Youngest Child. 

(This is sometimes due to a kind action shown to 

some humble person or to an animal.) 
The Three Sons. 

(From The Kiltartan Wonderbook. By Lady Gregory.) 
The Flying Ship. 

(From Russian Fairy Tales. Nisbet Pain.) 
How Jesper Herded the Hares. 

(From The Violet Fairy Book. 12411. ccc. 6.) 
Youth, Life and Death. 

(From Myths and Folk Tales of Russians and Slavs. 
By Curtin.) 
Jack the Dullard. Hans Christian Andersen. 

(See list of Andersen Stories.) 
The Enchanted Whistle. 

(From The Golden Fairy Book. 12411. c. 36.) 
The King's Three Sons. 
Hunchback and Brothers. 

(From Legends of the French Provinces. 1241. c. 2.) 
The Little Humpbacked Horse. (This story is more suit- 
able for reading than telling.) 

(From Russian Wonder Tales. By Post Wheeler. 
1 2410. dd. 30. Adam and Charles Black.) 



LIST OF BOOKS 227 

The Queen Bee. By Grimm. (See full list.) 
The Wonderful Bird. 

(From Roumanian Fairy Tales. Adapted by J. M. 
Percival. 12431. dd. 23. Henry Holt.) 



Legends, Myths, Fairy Tales and Miscellaneous 
Stories. 

How the Herring became King. 
Joe Moore's Story. 
The Mermaid of Gob Ny Ooyl. 
King Magnus Barefoot. 

(From Manx Tales. By Sophia Morrison.) 
The Greedy Man. 

(From Contes Populaires Malgaches. By G. Ferrand. 
2348. aaa. 19. Ernest Leroux.) 
Arbutus. 
Basil. 
Briony. 
Dandelion. 

(From Legends of Myths and Flowers. C. Skinner.) 
The Magic Picture. 
The Stone Monkey. 
Stealing Peaches. 
The Country of Gentlemen. 
Football on a Lake. 

(From Chinese Fairy Tales. Professor Giles.) 
The Lime Tree. 
Intelligence and Luck. 
The Frost, the Sun and Wind. 

(From Sixty Folk Tales. Wratislaw.) 
The Boy who Slept. 

The Gods Know. (This story must be shortened and 
adapted for narration.) 

(From Chinese Fairy Stories. By Pitman.) 
The Imp Tree. 
The Pixy Flower. 
Tom-Tit Tot. 
The Princess of Colchester. 

(From Fairy Gold. Ernest Rhys.) 
The Origin of the Mole. 

(From Cossack Fairy Tales. Selected by Nisbet Bain. 
12431. f. 51. Lawrence and Bullen.) 
Dolls and Butterflies. 

(From Myths and Legends of Japan. Chapter VI.) 
The Child of the Forest. 
The Sparrow's Wedding. 



228 LIST OF BOOKS 

The Moon Maiden. 

(From Old World Japan. By Frank Kinder.) 
The Story of Merlin. (For Young People.) 

(Told in Early British Heroes. Harkey.) 
The Isle of the Mystic Lake. 

(From Voyage of Maildun, " Old Celtic Romances." 
P. W. Joice.) 
The Story of Baldur. (In Three Parts, for Young Children.) 

(From Heroes of Asgard. M. R. Earle. Macmillan.) 
Adalhero. 

(From Evenings with the Old Story-Tellers. See 
" Titles of Books.") 
Martin, the Peasant's Son. 

(This is more suitable for reading. From Russian 
Wonder Tales. Post Wheeler.) 

Miscellaneous Stories. 

Versions of the Legend of Rip Van Winkle. 
Urashima. 

(From Myths and Legends of Japan. Hadland Davis.) 
The Monk and the Bird. 

(From the Book of Legends -Told Over Again. Horace 
Scudder.) 
Carob. (Talmud Legend.) 

(From Myths and Legends of Flowers. C. Skinner.) 
The Land of Eternal Youth. 

(From Child-Lore.) 
Catskin. 

Guy of Gisborne. 
King Henry and the Miller. 

(From Stories from Ballads. M. Macleod.) 
The Legend of the Black Prince. 

Why the Wolves no Longer Devour the Lambs on Xmas 
Night. 

(From Au Pays des Legendes. E. Herpin. 12430. 
bbb. 30. Hyacinthe Calliere.) 
The Coyote and the Locust. 
The Coyote and the Raven. 

(From Zuni Folk Tales. Cushing.) 
The Peacemaker. 

(From Legends of the Iroquois. W. V. Canfield.) 
The Story of the Great Chief of the Animals. 
The Story of Lion and Little Jackal. 

(From Kaffir Folk Tales. G. M. Theal.) 
The Legend of the Great St. Nicholas, 
The Three Counsels. 

(From Bulletin de Folk Lore. Liege. Academies, 
9871/2.) 



LIST OF BOOKS 229 

The Tale of the Peasant Demyar. 
Monkey and the Pomegranate Tree. 
The Ant and the Snow. 
The Value of an Egg. 
The Padre and the Negro. 
Papranka. 

(From Tales of Old Lusitania. Coelho.) 

Kojata. 

The Lost Spear. (To be shortened.) 

The Hermit. By Voltaire. 

The Blue Cat. (From the French.) 

The Silver Penny. 

The Three Sisters. 

The Slippers of Abou-Karem. 

(From The Golden Fairy Book. 12411. e. 36. Hut- 
chinson.) 
The Fairy Baby. 

(From Uncle Remus in Hansaland. By Mary and 
Newman Tremearne.) 
Why the Sole of a Man's Foot is Uneven. 
The Wonderful Hair. 
The Emperor Trojan's Goat Ears. 
The Language of Animals. 
Handicraft above Everything. 
Just Earnings are Never Lost. 
The Maiden who was Swifter than a Horse. 

(From Servian Stories and Legends.) 
Le Couple Silencieux. 
Le Mort Parlant. 
La Sotte Fiancee. 
Le Cornacon. 
Persin au Pot. 

(From Contes Populaires du Vallon. Aug. Gittee. 
12430. h. 44.) 
The Rat and the Cat. 
The Two Thieves. 
The Two Rats, 
The Dog and the Rat. 

(From Contes Populaires Malgaches. 2348. aaa. 19. 
Gab. Ferrand.) 
Rua and Toka. 

(From The Maori Tales. Clark.) 
John and the Pig. (Old Hungarian Tales.) 

(This story is given for the same purpose as " Long 
Bow Story." See Andrew Lang's Books.) 
Lady Clare. 
The Wolf-Child. 

(From Land of Grapes and Nuts.) 



2 3 o LIST OF BOOKS 

The Ungrateful Man. 

The Faithful Servant. (In part.) 

Jovinian the Proud Emperor. 

The Knight and the King of Hungary. 

The Wicked Priest. 

The Emperor Conrad and the Count's Son. 

(From the Gesta Romanorum. 1155. e. I.) 
Virgil, the Emperor and the Truffles. 

(From Unpublished Legends of Virgil. Collected by 
C. G. Leland. 12411. eee. 15. Elliot Stock.) 
Seeing that All was Right. (A good story for boys.) 
La Fortuna. 
The Lanterns of the Strozzi Palace. 

(From Legends of Florence. Re-told by C. G. Leland. 
12411. c.cc. 2. David Nutt.) 
The Three Kingdoms. 
Yelena the Wise. 
Seven Simeons. 
Ivan, the Bird and the Wolf. 
The Pig, the Deer and the Steed. 
Waters of Youth. 
The Useless Wagoner. 

(These stories need shortening and adapting. From 
Myths and Folk Tales of the Russian. Curtin.) 



Miscellaneous Stories taken from the Andrew 
Lang Books. 

The Serpent's Gifts. 
Unlucky John. 

(From All Sorts of Story Books. 012704. aaa. 35.) 
Makoma. (A story for boys.) 

(From Orange Fairy Book. 12411. c. 36.) 
The Lady of Solace. 
How the Ass Became a Man Again. 
Amys and Amile. 
The Burning of Njal. 
Ogier the Dane. 

(From Red Book of Romance. 12411. bbb. 10.) 
The Heart of a Donkey. 
The Wonderful Tune. 
A French Puck. 
A Fish Story. 

(From The Lilac Fairy Book. 12411. de. 17.) 
East of the Sun and West of the Moon. (As a preparation 
for Cupid and Psyche.) 

(From The Blue Fairy Book. 12411. 1. 3.) 



LIST OF BOOKS 231 

The Half Chick. 

The Story of Hok Lee and the Dwarfs. 

(From The Green Fairy Book. 12411.1. 6.) 
How to Find a True Friend. (To be given in shorter form.) 

(From The Crimson Fairy Book. 12411.C. 20.) 
The Long Bow Story. (This story makes children learn to 
distinguish between falsehood and romance.) 
(From The Olive Fairy Book. 12410. dd. 18.) 
Kanny, the Kangaroo. 
Story of Tom the Bear. 

(From The Animal Story Book.) 
The Story of the Fisherman. 
Aladdin and the Lamp. (This story should be divided and 

told in two- sections.) 
The Story of Ali Cogia. 

(From the Arabian Nights Stories of Andrew Lang. 
All these stories are published by Longmans, 
Green & Co.) 

The following titles are taken from the <( Story- 
lling Magazine," published 27 West 23rd Street, 
w York. 

March and the Shepherd. 

(Folk Lore from Foreign Lands. January, 1914-) 
The Two Young Lions. 

(From Fenelon's Fables and Fairy Tales. Translated 
by Marc T. Valette. March, 1914.) 
Why the Cat Spits at the Dog. (November, 1913.) 
The Story of Persephone. By R. T. Wyche. (September, 

I9I3-) 
The Story of England's First Poet. By G. P. Krapp. 

(From In Oldest England, July, 1913.) 
The Three Goats. By Jessica Child. (For very young 

children. July, 1913.) 
The Comical History of the Cobbler and the King. (Chap. 
Book. 12331. i. 4.) 
(This story should be shortened to add to the dramatic 
power.) 

"he two following stories, which are great favourites, 
lid be told one after the other, one to illustrate the 
lent wife, and the other the patient husband. 

'he Fisherman and his Wife. Hans. C. Andersen. 

(See Publishers of Andersen's Stories.) 
P 



232 



LIST OF BOOKS 



Hereafter This. 

(From More English Fairy Tales. By Jacobs. 12411. 
h. 23. David Nutt.) 
How a Man Found his Wife in the Land of the Dead. (This 
is a very dramatic and pagan story, to be used 
with discretion.) 
The Man without Hands and Feet. 
The Cockerel. 

(From Papuan Fairy Tales. Annie Ker.) 
The Story of Sir Tristram and La Belle Iseult. (To be 
told in shortened form.) 
(From Cornwall's Wonderland. Mabel Quiller Couch.) 
The Cat that Went to the Doctor. 
The Wood Anemone. 
Sweeter than Sugar. 
The Raspberry Caterpillar. 

(From Fairy Tales from Finland. Zopelius.) 
Dinevan the Emu. 
Goomble Gubbon the Bustard. 

(From Australian Legendary Lore. By Mrs. Langloh 
Parker. 12411. h. 13.) 
The Tulip Bed. 

(From English Fairy Book. Ernest Rhys.) 

I have been asked so often for this particular story : 
I am glad to be able to provide it in very poetical 
language. 

The Fisherman and his Wife. 

The Wolf and the Kids. 

The Adventures of Chanticleer and Partlet. 

The Old Man and his Grandson. 

Rumpelstiltskin. 

The Queen Bee. 

The Wolf and the Man. 

The Golden Goose. 

(From Grimm's Fairy Tales. By Mrs. Edgar Lucas. 
12410. dd. 33. Constable.) 



Stories from Hans C. Andersen. 

(For young children.) 
Ole-Luk-Oie. (Series of seven.) 
What the Old Man Does is Always Right. 
The Princess and the Pea, 
Thumbelina, 



LIST OF BOOKS 



233 



(For older children) 
It's Quite True. 
Five Out of One Pod. 
Great Clans and Little Claus. 
Jack the Dullard. 
The Buckwheat. 
The Fir-Tree. 
The Little Tin Soldier. 
The Nightingale. 
The Ugly Duckling. 
The Swineherd. 
The Sea Serpent. 
The Little Match-Girl. 
The Gardener and the Family. 

The two best editions of Hans C. Andersen's Fairy Tales 
are the translation by Mrs. Lucas, published by Dent, and 
the only complete English edition, published by W. A. and 
J. K. Craigie (Humphrey Milford, 1914). 



Miscellaneous Modern Stories. 



The Summer Princess. 

(From The Enchanted Garden. Mrs. Molesworth. 
012803. d. f. T. Fisher Unwin. This could be 
shortened and arranged for narration.) 
Thomas and the Princess. (A Fairy Tale for Grown-Ups, 
for pure relaxation.) By Joseph Conrad. 
(From Twenty-six Ideal Stories for Girls. 012809. e. 1. 
Hutchinson & Co.) 
The Truce of God. 

(From All-Fellowes Seven Legends of Lower Redemp- 
tion. Laurence Housman. 012630. 1. 25. Kegan 
Paul. 
The Selfish Giant. By Oscar Wilde. 012356. e. 59. David 

Nutt. 
The Legend of the Tortoise. 

(From the Provencal. From Windestraw. Pamela 
Glenconner.) Chiswick Press. 
Fairy Grumblesnooks. 
A Bit of Laughter's Smile. By Maud Symonds. 

(From Tales for Little People. Nos. 323 and 318. 
Aldine Publishing Company.) 
The Fairy who Judged her Neighbours. 

(From The Little Wonder Box. By Jean Ingelow. 
12806. r. 21. Griffiths, Farren & Co.) 



234 LIST OF BOOKS 

For Teachers of Young Children. 

Le Courage. 

I/Ecole. 

Le Jour de Catherine. 

Jacqueline et Mirant. 

(From Nos Enfants. Anatole France. 12810. dd. 72. 
Hachette.) 
The Giant and the Jackstraw. By David Starr Jordan. 

(From Una and the Knights. For very small children.) 
The Musician. 
Legend of the Christmas Rose. 

(From The Girl from the Marsh Croft. Selnia Lagelof. 

12581. p. 99.) 
Both these should be shortened and adapted for narra- 
tion. 

I trust that the titles of my stories in this Section 
may not be misleading. Under the titles of " Myths, 
Legends and Fairy Tales," I have included many 
which contain valuable ethical teaching, deep philo- 
sophy and stimulating examples for conduct in life. 
I regret that I have not been able to furnish in my 
own list many of the stories I consider good for 
narration, but the difficulty of obtaining permission 
has deterred me from further efforts in this direction. 
I hope, however, that teachers and students will look 
up the book containing these stories. 



INDEX 

* 


A.dler, Felix, on animal stories, 


Bradley, Professor, 119 


80 


Brown, T. E., 17 


Adventures of a Beetle, 29 


Buddha, stories of, 87, 127, 200, 


Alice in Wonderland, 57, 136 


203 


Analysis of motive and feeling, 


Buffoonery, to be discouraged, 54 


to be avoided, 43 


Burroughs, John, 58, 108 


Andersen, Hans C, 2, 15, 16, 


Buster Brown, 53 


21, 29, 31, 34, 39, 41, 44, 45, 


Butterfly, Story of, 45 


62, 63, 80, 112, 116, 123, 124, 




138, 150, 156, 232 


Call of the Homeland, 71 


Vnimal Play, Psychology of, 105 


Calypso, 93 


k.rt, true purpose of, 109 


Calthrop, Dion, 92 


Arthur in the Cave, 165-9 


Carlyle, T., 115 


Artifices of story telling, 32 


Chap books, 51, 52 




Chesterton, G. K., on senti- 


Sacon, J. D. D., 12 


mentality, 46 


Sallad for a boy, 107 


Child, the, 87 


Jaring, M., 193 


Child Play, 104, 105 


Jarnes, Earl, 60 


Children's Catalogue, 211 


Jarnett, P. A., 104 


Choice of books, 61 


Jarnett, Mrs. P. A., 70 


Christopher, St., legend of, 162-5 


Jarrow, E., 40 


Cid, the, 133 


beautiful things need appro- 


Cinderella, 71, 90, 119, 120 


priate language, 82 


Classical Stories, 218, 223 


teetle, the, 125 


Class teaching, use of story- 


•eginning, should be striking, 


telling in, 132 


39 


Clifford, Ethel, 88 


elloc's Cautionary Tales, 56 


Clifford, Mrs. W. K, 40, 64 


eranger, 25 


Commonplace, to be avoided, 99 


ible Stories, 67 


Common sense of Education, 104 


jornson's tribute to Andersen, 


Common sense, illustrated in 


116 


stories, 71, 224 


lazing Mansion, the, 74 


Concealment of emotion by 


luebeard, 76 


children, 114 


lue Rose, the, 187 


Confucius, 60 


Blugginess,' the thirst for, 85 


Co-operation of audience, how 


ooks, choice of, 61 


to enlist, 37 



236 INDEX 

Cory, W., 107 

Coquelin, 27, 34 

Crazy Jane, 47 

Creative work, value of, 113 

Curious Girl, 51 

Curtin, Russian Myths, 90 

Cymbeline, 94 

Danger of side issues, 6 
Danger of altering the story for 

the occasion, 8 
Darning Needle, 125 
Death, stories dealing with, 86 
Death-bed scenes, 55 
Defence of Poesy, 5, 91, 110 
Detail, excess of, 21 
Dick Whittington, 100 
Didactic fiction, a low type of 

art, 4, 59 
Dido and Aeneas, 66 
Difficulties of the story, 6 
Dinkey Bird, the, 64 
Direct appeal, danger of, 111 
Divine Adventure, the, 81 
Dobson, Austin, 21 
Don Quixote, 21, 133 
Dramatic and poetic elements, 

134 
Dramatic Excitement, 82 
Dramatic joy, 4, 93 
Dramatic presentation, of moral 

value, 59 

indispensable, 89 

Dramatisation, danger of, 111 
Drudgery, essential for success, 

29 

Educational uses of story telling, 



Effect of story, difficult to 
gauge, 14 

how to obtain and main- 
tain, 89 

Elements, desirable, 61 

to be avoided, 42 

Eliot, George, 83 
Emotions, unable to find expres- 
sion, 60 

Emphasis, danger of, 33 
Endings, dramatic, 40 
Enfant Prodigue, 18 
Environment, 95 
Essentials of the story, 25 
Ewing, Mrs., 50, 104, 106 
Examples for Youth, 56 
Experience, the appeal to, 62 

Fact and make-believe, 119 
Fairchild Family, 44 
Fairy tales, 58, 72, 73, 74, 75, 
102, 104, 112 

do not appeal to some, 121 

— ' — mixed with science, to be 

avoided, 57 

poor material of, 122 

potential truth in, 121 

right age for, 75 

Father and Son, 102 
Fear, appeals to, 51 
Fenelon's Telemachus, 92 
Festival Day, true spirit of, 

200-3 
Fiction, should be used, 109 
Field, Eugene, 64, 69 
Filial Piety, 203-6 
Fleming, Marjorie, 53 
Folk lore, tampering with, 76 
Freeman, P., poems of, 55 



INDEX 



237 



Froebel, 59 

Fun, coarse and exaggerated, 53 

Gales, R. L., 101 

Geography, dramatic possibilities 

of, 134 
Gesture, use and abuse of, 35, 

126 

Glenconner, Lady, 187 
Glover, Mrs. Arnold, 96 
Golden Numbers, 71 
Goschen, G., 65, 99 
Gosse, E., 102 
Gregory, Lady, 24 
Grimm, 71 
Groos, Karl, 105 
Grotesque stories, an antidote to 

sentimentality, 78 
Gunnar, Death of, 133 

Hafiz the Stone-cutter, 170-2 

Harris, Muriel, 56 

Harrison, Frederic, 61 

Hearn, Lafcadio, 31 

Hector and Andromache, 66 

Helen and Paris, 8 

Heroes of Asgaard, 65 

History and fiction, 109, 225 

Honey Bee and other Stories, 57 

Human interest, 93 

Humour, development slow, 136 

educational value of, 135 

to encourage the sense of, 

4, 73, 224 

Hushaby Lady, 69 

Hysteria, how encouraged, 60 

Ice Maiden, 80 

Ideal, translated into action, 4, 
110 



Illustration of stories, 131 
Imagination, appeal by, 20 

cultivation of, 4, 65, 103 

Queyrat on, 118 

Ribot on, 105 

Indian Stories, 81, 91, 218 
Infant piety, tales of, 55 

Irish peasants as an audience, 
10 

Jack and the Beanstalk, 74, 121 
Jacob, More English tales, 72 
James, Henry, 27 
James, William, 84 
Janeway, Mrs. 51 
Jesper and the Hares, 72 
John and the Pig, 106 

Keatinge, on Suggestion, 34 
Kimmins, Dr., 130 
Kinematograph, dramatic value 

of, 18, 48 
King Peter, 92 
Kinship with animals, to be 

encouraged, 80 
Ker, Professor, 157 
Kipling, Rudyard, 38, 39, 40, 41, 

123, 127 

Ladd's Psychology, 108 
Lang, Andrew, 72, 73, 85, 230 
Laocoon group, 55 
Lear's Book of Nonsense, 79 
Legends, Myths and Fairy 

tales, 219, 227 
Life, stories of saving, 86 
Little Citizens of other Lands, 

103 
Little Cousin Series, 214 
Little Red Riding Hood, 76 



238 



INDEX 



Lion and Hare, 
Loti, 114 



126 



Magnanimity, to be encouraged, 

107 
Mahomet, advice to teachers, 68 
McKracken, Mrs. E., 45 
Macleod, Fiona, 81 
Marsh King's Daughter, 62 
Mechanical devices for attracting 

attention, 32 
Memory or improvisation, 123 
Memory, the effect of, 63 
Mentius, Chinese philosopher, 95 
Metempsychosis, 81 
Milking time, 68 
Mill on the Floss, 83 
Milton, 69 
Mimicry, use of, 36 
Ministering Children, 44 
Miscellaneous Stories, 222, 228 
Modern Stories, List of, 233 
Montessori, on Silence, 131 
Moore Smith, C. G., 57 
Moral Instruction of Children, 

81. 
Moral tales, 55 
Morley, Henry, 58 
Morley, Lord, on direct moral 

teaching, 128 
Mother Play, 59 
Moulton, Professor, 67 

Napoleon, 85, 134 
Nebuchadnezzar's golden image, 

67 
Necker de Saussure, Mme., 20 
Nightingale, the, 138-150 
Njal, Burning of, 85, 133 
Nonsense, a plea for, 79 



Norse Stories, 210 
Nursery Ehymes, 101 

Old people, as an audience, 24 
Openings, vivid, 39, 40 
Orpheus and Eurydice, 66 
Our Lady's Tumbler, 123 
Over dramatic stimulation, 48 
Over-elaboration, 21 
Over explanation, danger of, 23 
Over-illustration, danger of, 17 

Pandora, story of, 123 
Pantomime, stories in, 18 
Paris and Helen, 8 
Pausing, the art of, 33 
Piety Promoted, 57 
Planting for Eternity, 115 
Plato, on the End of Education, 

91. 
Poetic element, children's un- 
expressed need, 135 
Poetry and Life, 119 
Poetry, effect of, 119 
Poetry, value of, 69 
Polish, importance of, 31 
Poor Robin, 55 
Priggishness, how to avoid, 51 
Preparation for a story, 124 
Princess and the Pea, 34, 156-7 
Proud Cock, the, 178-180 
Psyche, 120 
Psychology, 108 
Psychological novelist, 108 
Pueblo tribe of Indians, 91 
Puss in Boots, 108 

Quebec and Temeraire, story of, 

107 
Questions, danger of, 13 



INDEX 



239 



Questions of teachers, 117 
Questioning the audience, futility 

of, 130 
Queyrat, 19, 23, 63, 106, 113, 118 
Quintilian, on the use of the 

hands, 35 

Reading matter for children, 211 

Realism, excessive, 49 

Repetition of story (by children) 
inadvisable, 130 

Repetition of stories (by lec- 
turers) recommended, 30, 62 

Reproduction of stories, 112, L30 

Resourcefulness, stories of, 71, 
224 

Ribot, on the imagination, 34, 
105 

Riley, Whitcomb, 100 

Romance, Books of, 85, 221 

Romance, good for children, 66 

in the streets, 97 

Rossetti, Christina, 68 

Russell, J., 161 

Russian myths and folk tales, 90 

Saga, a, 160, 161 

Saints, lives of, 225 

St. Christopher, Legend of, 
162-5 

St. Francis and St. Clare, 66 

Santa Claus, 122 

Sarcasm, excess to be avoided, 44 

Satire, excessive, to be depre- 
cated, 44 

Saturation, necessity of, 27 

Scott, Dr., 71 

Scudder, H., Ill, 124 

Sensationalism, danger of, 47 

Sentimentality, 45 



Shakespeare, 69, 96 
Shepherd, the Obstinate, 172-8 
Sherwood, Mrs., 52 
Side issues, danger of, 6 
Sidney, Sir Philip, 85, 91, 110 
Siegfried and Brunhild, 66 
Silence, Montessori on, 131 
Simplicity, the keynote of story- 
telling, 2 
Smith, Mrs. R. B., 14 
Smith, N. A., 71 
Snake story, a, 195-200 
Snegourka, 180-2 
Snow Child, the, 180-2 
Somerset, Lady H., 110 
Song and Story, 70 
Song of Roland, 85 
Souvenirs du Peuple, 25 
Standard, must be high, 23 
Sterne, 44 
Stephens, James, 47 
Stevenson, R. L., 104, 105, 123 
Stories, in full, 138 

to counteract influence of 

the streets, 93 

outside children's experi- 
ence, futility of, 48 

Story telling in school and home, 

210 
Story Telling Magazine, 231 
Sturla, story of, 157-160 
Suggestion, 32, 34, 59 
Sully, on children, 30, 90 
Sunday books, 56 
Swineherd, the, 150-156 
Sympathy for foreigners, 103 
Syrett, N., 118 

Talking over a story, 129 
Talking Thrush, the, 200 



240 



INDEX 



Talks to teachers, 85 

Teachers of Young Children, 

books for, 234 
Telemachus, 92 
Tell, Wilhelm, 30 
Tennant, Pamela, 187 
Thackeray, 135 
Thomas, W. Jenkyn, 169 
Three Bears, 121 
Through the Looking Glass, 90 
Tiger, Jackal and Brahman, 11 
Time, spent on story telling, 117 
Tin Soldier, the, 63, 64, 124, 129 
Top and Ball, 125 
To your good health, 172-8 
Treasure of the Wise Man, 100 
Troy, tale of, 8 
Truth, many-sided, 122 
Truth of Stories, 118 
Truth and Falsehood, how to 

distinguish, 106 
Two Frogs, the, 193-5 

Ulysses, 7, 93 



Unfamiliar words, danger of, 10 
United States, 31, 33, 49 
Unsuitable material for stories, 

42 
Unusual element, desirable, 64 
Unwholesome Extravagance, 53 
Utilitarian stories, danger of, 99 

Very Short Stories, 64 
Virginibus Puerisque, 104 
Voice, dramatic power of, 17 

Wallas, K., 71 

Warlike Excitement, not essen- 
tial, 87 
Water Nixie, the, 183-7 
Wide, Wide World, 44 
Wiggin, Kate Douglas, 48, 71 
Wise Old Shepherd, the, 195-200 
Wolf and Kids, 78 

Yonge, Miss, 54 

Youngest Child, success of, 226 



Sherratt and Hughes, Printers, London and Manchester. 



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numerous Illustrations. 

This is the great missionary-explorer's own narrative of his first 
travel experiences in Africa, and consists chiefly of a full account 
of his wonderful journeys in the years 1849-1856, in the course of 
which he discovered the Victoria Falls, and crossed the continent 
from west to east. 

THE GATHERING OF BROTHER HILARIUS. 

By Michael Fairless. 

Through this little book runs the road of life, the common road 
of men, the white highway that Hilarius watched from the monas- 
tery gate and Brother Ambrose saw nearing its end in the Jerusalem 
of his heart. The book is a romance. It may be read as a romance 
of the Black Death and a monk with an artist's eye ; but for the 
author it is a romance of the Image of God. 

AN ENGLISHWOMAN'S LOVE LETTERS. By 

Laurence Housman. 

Mr. T. P. O'Connor in the Daily Mail said : — " I turned over the 
leaves rapidly, almost greedily, and had read almost all its story 
before I could allow myself to sleep. ... It is a loud cry, not 
merely of one intoxicated and torn heart, but of the claim of inner 
and true emotion to be still the greatest force of life ; the one thing 
worth having — worth living for, longing for, dying for." 

^SOP'S FABLES. A New Version, chiefly from the 

original sources. By the Rev. Thomas James, M.A. With 
more than 100 Woodcuts designed by Tenniel and Wolfe. 

Sir John Tenniel's beautiful illustrations are a notable feature of 
this edition of " the most popular moral and political class-book 
of more than two thousand years." 

THE LION HUNTER IN SOUTH AFRICA. 

Five Years' Adventures in the Far Interior of South Africa, 

with Notices of the Native Tribes and Savage Animals. By 

Roualeyn Gordon Cumming, of Altyre. With Woodcuts. 

This sporting classic is a fascinating first-hand narrative of 

hunting expeditions in pursuit of big game and adventures with 

native tribes. A special interest now attaches to it by reason of 

the great changes which have come over the " scene of the lion 

hunter's " exploits. 



MURRAY'S SHILLING LIBRARY. 

UNBEATEN TRACKS IN JAPAN. An Account of 

Travels in the Interior, including visits to the Aborigines of 
Yezo and the Shrine of Nikko. By Mrs. Bishop (Isabella 
L. Bird). With Illustrations. 

This book gives practically Mrs. Bishop's day to day experiences 
during journeys of over one hundred and four thousand miles in 
Japan. As a faithful and realistic description of Old Japan by 
one of the most remarkable Englishwomen of her day, this book 
has an abiding interest. 

NOTES FROM A DIARY. First Series. By Sir 

MOUNTSTUART E. GRANT DUFF. 

Sir Mountstuart Grant Duff, besides being a distinguished public- 
servant, was a popular member of society with a genius for gathering 
and recording good stories. In his series of " Notes from a Diary " 
he jotted down the best things he heard, and thereby made some 
enjoyable volumes. 

LAVENGRO : The Scholar, the Gypsy, the Priest. 

By George Borrow. With 6 Pen and Ink Sketches by 
Percy Wadham. 

This edition contains the unaltered text of the original issue : 
with the addition of some Suppressed Episodes printed only in the 
Editions issued by Mr. Murray ; MS. Variorum, Vocabulary, and 
Notes by the late Professor W. I. Knapp. 

OUR ENGLISH BIBLE. The Story of its Origin and 

Growth. By H. W. Hamilton Hoare, late of Balliol College, 
Oxford, now an Assistant Secretary to the Board of Education, 
Whitehall. With Specimen Pages of Old Bibles. 

An historical sketch of the lineage of our Authorised Version, 
which was published in 1901 under the title of " The Evolution of 
the English Bible." 

The aim of the sketch is to give, in a continuous and narrative 
form, a history of our English translations, and to exhibit them in 
close connection with the story of the national life. 

THE LETTERS OF QUEEN VICTORIA. A Selection 

from her Majesty's correspondence between the years 
1837 and 1861. Edited by A. C. Benson, M.A., C.V.O., and 
Viscount Esher, G.C.V.O., K.C.B. With 16 Portraits. 
3 vols. Is. net each volume. 

Published by authority of his Majesty King Edward VII. This 
edition is not abridged, but is the complete and revised text of the 
original. 

3 



MURRAY'S SHILLING LIBRARY. 
ORIGIN OF SPECIES BY MEANS OF NATURAL 

SELECTION. By Charles Darwin. Popular impression 
of the Corrected Copyright Edition. Issued with the approval 
of the author's executors. 

The first edition of Darwin's " Origin of Species " has now passed 
out of copyright. 

It should, however, be clearly understood that the edition which 
thus loses its legal protection is the imperfect edition which the 
author subsequently revised and which was accordingly superseded. 
This, the complete and authorised edition of the work, will not 
lose copyright for some years. 

The only complete editions authorised by Mr. Darwin and his 
representatives are those published by Mr. Murray. 

ROUND THE HORN BEFORE THE MAST. An 

Account of a Voyage from San Francisco round Cape Horn to 
Liverpool, in a Fourmasted " Windjammer," with experiences 
of the life of an Ordinary Seaman. By Basil Lubbock. 
With Illustrations. 

The Sheffield Independent says : — " If you care to read what 
life at sea in a sailing vessel really is like, this is the book that tells 
the story. . . . Mr. Lubbock has a fine power of telling a tale 
realistically. I have never read any work about the sea that is as 
vivid and actual as this." 

ENGLISH BATTLES AND SIEGES IN THE 

PENINSULA. By Lieut.-Gen. Sir William Napier, 
K.C.B. With Portrait. 

In spite of the countless books which have appeared on the 
Peninsular War, this great work has preserved its popularity as a 
standard book on the subject for over half a century and still holds 
its own when most rivals, which have appeared since, have become 
forgotten. 

STUDIES IN THE ART OF RAT-CATCHING. 

By H. C. Barkley. 

" Should the reader know of a schoolboy fond of ratting, the 
proud possessor possibly of a sharp terrier, and, mayh„, a few 
ferrets, and wish to bestow a present upon him, the memory of which 
would last throughout his life, we could not do better than advise 
him to purchase this most pleasantly-written book and bestow it 
Upon him."- — Field. 



MURRAY'S SHILLING LIBRARY. 

THE SERMON ON THE MOUNT. By the Right 
Rev. Charles Gore, D.D., LL.D., Bishop of Oxford. 

Cultured and scholarly, and yet simple and luminous, eloquent 
in tone and graceful in diction, practical and stimulating, it is far 
and away the best exposition of the Sermon on the Mount that has 
yet appeared. 

THE HOUSE OF QUIET. An Autobiography. 

By A. C. Benson. 

" The House of Quiet " is an autobiography, and something more 
— a series of very charming essays on people and life. The writer 
has placed himself in the chair of an invalid, an individual possessed 
of full mental vigour and free from bodily pain, but compelled by 
physical weakness to shirk the rough and tumble of a careless, 
unheeding, work-a-day world. He writes with a pen dipped in 
the milk of human kindness, and the result is a book to read time 
and again. 

THE THREAD OF GOLD. By A. C. Benson. 

The Guardian says : — " The style of the writing is equally simple 
and yet dignified ; from beginning to end an ease of movement 
charms the reader. The book is abundantly suggestive. . . . 
The work is that of a scholar and a thinker, quick to catch a vagrant 
emotion, and should be read, as it was evidently written, in leisure 
and solitude. It covers a wide range — art, nature, country life, 
human character, poetry and the drama, morals and religion." 

THE PAINTERS OF FLORENCE. From the 13th 

to the 16th Centuries. By Julia Cartwright (Mrs. Ady). 
With Illustrations. 

Mrs. Ady is a competent and gifted writer on Italian painting, 
and presents in these 350 pages an excellent history of the splendid 
art and artists of Florence during the golden period from Cimabue 
anil Giotto to Andrea del Sarto and Michelangelo. 

A LADY'S LIFE IN THE ROCKY MOUNTAINS. 

By Mrs. Bishop (Isabella L. Bird). With Illustrations. 

The Irish Times says : — " ' A Lady's Life in the Rocky Mountains' 
needs no introduction to a public who have known and admired 
Mrs. Bishop (Isabella L. Bird) as a fearless traveller in the days 
when it was something of an achievement for a woman to undertake 
long and remote journeys. 

THE LIFE OF DAVID LIVINGSTONE. By 

William Garden Blaikie. With Portrait. 

This is the standard biography of the great missionary who will 
for ever stand pre-eminent among African travellers. 



MURRAY'S SHILLING LIBRARY. 

DEEDS OF NAVAL DARING; or, Anecdotes of 

the British Navy. By Edward Giffard. 

This work contains ninety-three anecdotes, told in everyday 
language, of such traits of courage and feats of individual daring 
as may best serve to illustrate the generally received idea of the 
British sailor's character for " courage verging on temerity." 

SINAI AND PALESTINE in connection with their 
History. By the late Dean Stanley. With Maps. 

" There is no need, at this time of day, to praise the late Dean 
Stanley's fascinating story of his travels in Palestine. It is enough 
to sa}?- that here Mr. Murray has given us, for the sum of one shilling 
net, a delightful reprint of that charming book, with maps and 
plans and the author's original advertisement and prefaces. We 
would especially commend this cheap storehouse of history, tradi- 
tion, and observation to Bible students." — iHmdce Courirr. 

THE NATURALIST ON THE RIVER AMAZONS. 

A Record of Adventures, Habits of Animals, Sketches of 
Brazilian and Indian Life, and Aspects of Nature under the 
Equator, during Eleven Years of Travel. By H. W. Bates, 
F.R.S. Numerous Illustrations. 

A most readable record of adventures, sketches of Brazilian and 
Indian life, habits of animals, and aspects of nature under the 
Equator during eleven years of travel. 



WORKS OF SAMUEL SMILES. 

Few books in the whole history of literature have had such wide 
popularity or such healthy and stimulating effect as the works of 
Samuel Smiles during the last half-century. How great men have 
attained to greatness and successful men achieved success is the 
subject of these enthralling volumes, which are now brought within 
the reach of all. 

SELF-HELP. With Illustrations of Conduct and 

Perseverance. With Portrait. 

LIFE AND LABOUR ; or, Characteristics of Men 

of Industry, Culture, and Genius. 

CHARACTER. A Book of Noble Characteristics. 

With Frontispiece. 

JAMES NASMYTH, Engineer and Inventor of the 

Steam Hammer. An Autobiography. Portrait and Illus- 
trations. 



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